Cat and Mouse
by Scarred
Summary: Rick knows this game is dangerous, but this is his world now: trying his best to get the upper hand and hoping to God he doesn't fail. Results may vary. The prequel and companion piece to Date Night.
1. The Chase

When Carl was in third grade, Rick was invited to speak at career day. The invitation was given to him during the first few weeks of school, after a parent-teacher conference. Lori had lingered in the doorway, and Rick could feel her eyes burrow in the back of his head.

"Mr. Grimes, we're having a career day for the children this year. It's near April, so it's still quite a bit away, but I thought I'd tell you ahead of time. We always try and have a police officer come. The kids love it."

Rick smiled and managed a laugh. "I'll definitely try to come. If duty calls, though," he said, the sentence remaining unfinished. The teacher gave him an understanding look, and Lori pulled him out of the classroom, because they were late to dinner with her parents.

That night, as he tucked Carl into bed, Rick told him the plan. Carl seemed excited. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Really?"

Rick kissed his forehead. "If all goes well."

A month and six days later, Rick was shot. When he woke, it was snowing outside. He had missed Christmas.

The pain medicine they gave made him drowsy and confused most of the time, but he was awake, and that was all that mattered. He had Lori, Carl, and Shane at his side. Rick couldn't hold a decent conversation for the life of him, and Carl laughed at the things he said. Lori gave him a look. Shane rubbed his head.

They tiptoed around him, too scared to say anything. He didn't understand why they were so worried, though he wasn't in the right state of mind to do any critical thinking.

"Can I sit with you?" The voice jostled Rick, a quick shudder through his body, and pain seared in his abdomen. A laugh. "Why am I even asking? You're not gonna fucking answer. Probably too doped up."

Feet dragged across the floor, a chair sliding. A huff. "I've been here nearly as long as you have. Not a patient, of course, I'm always fucking fine. My curse." A sigh. "It's my… my… goddamn, what am I even doing?"

Rick's eyelids were too heavy to open. The voice rattling in his ears was unrecognizable. He couldn't put a face to the voice, not that he wanted to. He felt his fingers twitch, head tipping to the side, and then—

The heart monitor let out a long, single ring. The chair fell onto the floor. "Nurse! Get the fuck in here!"

* * *

April came, and Rick was a hit with the kids. Every one of them had heard of Carl Grimes' heroic father, taking a bullet on the job. They all wanted to see the wound. Who was Rick to disappoint?

Lori yelled at him that evening. "They're just kids, Rick. They shouldn't know about… that stuff. Not yet. Let their parents teach them. You're just supposed to be a friendly face in the neighborhood. Not some sideshow at a carnival."

Next time Carl had a career day, he was in ninth grade. Lori was dead, Judith was teething, and Rick didn't know how to explain he was an assassin. He didn't attend. To be fair, Carl just thought he was a stay at home dad, a retired officer who had been dangling onto the last threads of his job for years.

"It's fine, Dad. Judith needs someone watching her. Lots of kids have parents who stay home."

Not all kids have parents who were—Christ, he hated saying the word.

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Rick opened the door. He stood there, hand on the doorframe, and blinked. "I didn't order this." Rick glanced at the nametag on the man's shirt. "Glenn, there must be a mistake."

Glenn shook his head, lips pressed together. He glanced around and took a step forward. Rick narrowed his eyes. "No mistake." He sighed. "Look, I hate doing this. Just take the pizza." Glenn pushed the box to Rick's chest. "Compliments of the Hilltop."

"Excuse me?"

He was gone, and Rick was left with the pizza. He shut the door with a kick and walked into the kitchen. Rick sat the box on the counter and flipped it open. On the inside lid was a paper with a name and an address. _Gregory_. Rick narrowed his eyes and ripped off the note.

"I didn't know you ordered pizza," Carl said, walking down the hall, no doubt the smell attracting him.

Rick shoved the note in his back pocket. "Surprise."

* * *

It might not have been a good idea to bring Judith along to see this Gregory man, but Rick didn't know what else to do.

Gregory was charismatic and a bit of an ass. He also had these nervous tendencies and would talk quickly when things weren't going his way. Rick didn't like him.

Money, on the other hand, Rick did like.

"Now, I know this isn't the most ethical career, but dare I say, it's necessary."

"Necessary?"

"Why, yes, of course. The world has some awful people in it, and those people need to be gotten rid of."

Rick covered Judith's ears. "How exactly do you decide who these awful people are? Isn't that a bit… subjective?"

Gregory laughed. "I've never been wrong yet, Rick. If you agree to this job, you need to put your utmost faith in me. Disloyalty isn't something that's tolerated at the Hilltop."

"How did you find me?"

Gregory hesitated. "Got a tip, actually. One of your neighbors… Carol, I believe, recommended you."

Rick shut his eyes. "I didn't think you employed hitmen through word of mouth." He opened his eyes, looking at Gregory's troubled expression.

"Hm, you can always say no, Rick. Walk away, leave, I won't say anything."

He adjusted Judith in his arms. "I find that hard to believe."

Gregory narrowed his eyes. "That's because it isn't true. A test!" He pointed at Rick, who rolled his eyes. Gregory dropped his hand. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Rick. I was told you had a strong moral code, and you were a hell of a shot."

Rick curled his fingers as Judith gripped them. "Haven't done much shooting lately."

"That, my friend, will definitely change if you work for me." He glanced at Gregory, eyebrow raised. Gregory smiled and moved behind his desk. "First things first, you must understand this. If you botch a job, you absolutely must not come back."

* * *

Rick met Sasha, Rosita, and Maggie. They had been with Gregory for years now, though Rosita was originally from another company.

"Kingdom," she said. "Bit flashy, but things worked out."

Hilltop and Kingdom merged, and two competing hitman companies became one. Gregory ended up in charge of them both, the previous boss of the Kingdom disappearing from public eye.

"He's still alive," Sasha said. "Gregory isn't that stupid."

"How many companies are there? I find it a bit hard to believe something like this can be kept quiet."

Maggie laughed. "I keep telling Gregory not to have Glenn scouting out potential hires." She looked at Rick. "My husband can't lie worth a damn."

"There's one other," Rosita said, arms over her chest. "The Saviors. Bunch of self-righteous pricks. Gregory extended his hand, and they spat in it."

"So they're competition?"

"If you want to be bland about body counts, yeah. It's a competition." Sasha shook her head. "Gregory's still trying to work out a deal. Nothing."

Maggie walked across the room, behind Gregory's desk, and pulled out a black notebook. "Here," she said, opening it to a particular page and holding it out. "First contract. Drug dealer. He's been in the news, if you want to double check Gregory's work." Maggie chewed on the inside of her cheek. "You need help, call one of us. We don't care to step in."

Rick read the details once, twice. He nodded and glanced at each of them, patting Judith's back. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

When he went home that evening, Carol was fixing up her flowerbed. She waved at Rick. While he waved back, he couldn't quite look at her the same.

* * *

Rick stayed up night after night, looking up articles about the drug dealer. The more he looked, Rick remembered dealing with him while he was still working as an officer. Real dickhead.

The next night, when Carl was sleeping, Judith tucked in, and he asked Carol to babysit, Rick went out. He had the address memorized in his head, and he went over it again and again as he drove. Rick parked several streets away, fixed his coat, and pulled on gloves. His gun, silencer attached to the end, was safely against his back as he walked.

There was no fight left in the man. Rick stood over him, watching as blood trickled down his nose. "What the hell are you—"

Rick squeezed the trigger.

He drove back home in silence, and it wasn't until he said goodbye to Carol and laid in bed, Judith on his chest, that Rick realized he enjoyed the rush, the risk, and the danger. It was almost like being a cop. Almost.

* * *

Rick was… pretty damn good at his job. It felt odd saying that, but it was good to have pride in what you did, right? Rick should probably stop putting too much thought into it.

He had only been with the Hilltop for five months when Gregory ushered him into his office and locked the door behind them. "Please sit, Rick. Uh, anywhere's fine."

Rick narrowed his eyes and planted himself in the chair in front of Gregory's desk. "What's this about, Gregory?" he asked, ankles crossing.

Gregory walked across the room, standing behind his desk. He leaned over it, staring at Rick. "Now, Rick, you've been with us for… well, it has certainly felt like a long time." He laughed. Rick didn't. Gregory cleared his throat. "You've impressed me and the others with how well you've acclimated to the environment."

"Thanks…"

"So, I think it's only befitting that you get this special contract. You're the most dedicated and hardworking out of the rest, so." Gregory set his hands on his hips, nodding.

Rick gestured loosely, scratching an eyebrow. "Okay? What is it?"

Gregory hesitated, fingers drumming against his waist. "Well, a bad man. Definitely." He rubbed the back of his head and sat down, scooting his chair over to a drawer.

"A bad man," Rick repeated. "Isn't that just like the rest?"

"He's different." Gregory took out his notebook and opened to a blank page. He grabbed a pen, glanced at Rick, and began to write. "He… might not look like much, but trust me. He's very dangerous. Not to be trusted." Gregory clicked his pen and ripped the paper out. He folded it and slid it over to Rick.

"Again, isn't that like the rest?" Rick leaned over and took the paper. He opened it, furrowing his brow. "Negan?" he read, the name coming off his tongue like a curse. "What's he done?" he asked, eyes scanning over the address, his occupation. The neighborhood was familiar. Rick remembered driving past it several times. His occupation just said "educator".

"Trust me on this, Rick." Gregory winked at Rick, patting the desk. "He delves in a similar business as us." He paused. "Not exactly, of course. If we had any stragglers trying to make a name for themselves, Rosita deals with them."

Rick folded the paper and rubbed his eyes. "Is that all you're going to tell me? Nothing else?"

"He's a nasty man, Rick. Tread lightly. We haven't been on the best of terms. At times, I think he has it out for me."

He lowered his hand. "So, you just want me to get rid of him before he makes a move?" Gregory was quiet, fingers nervously rapping against the arm of his chair. Rick laughed. "Okay. Paranoia, I get it." Rick stood up, slipping the paper into his pocket. "I'm gonna look into this," he said, "before I make my own move."

Gregory sat up, chair knocking back. "You must do this quickly." He stretched out a hand, pointing. He paused and lowered his hand, brushing off something from his shirt sleeve. "Very important, very secret job, Rick. No one can know what you're doing."

Rick pursed his lips and studied Gregory. He was hesitant to object. There was a reason Gregory was trusting him with this. The man must deserve it, he must. "Okay," he said. Rick turned away, head bowing.

"Uh, Rick?" Gregory rubbed his lips, looking down at the floor. "If anything goes wrong, don't come back."

Rick shut the door behind him. Maggie sat in a nearby chair, book in her lap. She looked up and caught Rick's eye. "Everything okay?"

He sighed. "Work."

* * *

Carl didn't ask Rick what he did in the evenings. Rick said he went to the park, took a walk. During those evenings, he only went to the park if his job took him there. Most of the time, he scouted out his contracts.

Gregory had said the contract was time-sensitive, well, said as much without actually saying it. Rick wondered what had happened, what had caused them to be on such bad terms, and why Gregory thought Negan had it out for him.

The neighborhood was simple, only one streetlight on the whole block. Rick parked his car in front of a house and killed the engine. He sat back, glancing at the paper on his dashboard. He scanned the address and then looked ahead, at the house. It was a one story, shabby looking thing. Rick wouldn't give it a second thought if he was just driving by. There was a light on in the front room, that Rick suspected was the living room. This part always made him nervous, but it was absolutely necessary. He had to know as much as he could before he acted.

It was getting darker outside, and when Rick glanced at his phone, he had to lower the brightness. Rick lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. The light in the front room was off. He leaned back, hands on his thighs. The house was still for a few seconds, and Rick waited with bated breath, sitting up straighter when the front door opened.

A man walked out, almost at a waltz. Despite it being chilly, he wore no jacket, just a white t-shirt with jeans. He looked like he didn't have any shoes on either. The man leaned, peering back into the house, and then the porch light switched on. The deck was bathed with a warm light, and Rick slid to the edge of his seat.

He almost looked… familiar. Rick couldn't explain it. He held his head in his hands as he watched the man, this Negan. Negan ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and scratched his cheek. He dug into his pocket, taking out a packet of cigarettes, and slid one out. Negan sat on the porch steps, smoking.

The scene was picture perfect. There was always that moment, the split-second doubt, Rick faced when he first saw his target. Sometimes, they would appear to be the complete opposite of what Gregory told him, but then something happened, and Rick would snap back to reality.

He heard Negan laugh. Rick held onto the steering wheel, frowning. A cat was rubbing against Negan's legs, headbutting his shins. Negan scratched at the cat's shoulders, cigarette dangling from his lips.

Rick sat there for twenty minutes, watching as Negan played with that cat before going inside. The cat sat on the porch, licking its paws. Rick drove away.

* * *

Rick made it a habit to drive through Negan's neighborhood every day. Never at the same time. He didn't want to raise that much attention. Negan wasn't always outside, but when he was, he was usually smoking. Smoking or drinking. Occasionally, he'd leave a bowl out for the cat, or place a flower pot next to the steps.

By now, there should have been something that alerted Rick that this guy was bad business. There was nothing. He seemed like a guy who kept to himself, nothing more. Did he really have it in for Gregory?

What did educator even mean? Gregory shouldn't be intentionally vague on a job like this.

After watching Negan pace his porch and go inside, hopefully for the night, Rick went home. He checked on Judith, who was playing with some blocks in her room, and Carl, who was playing some game on his computer, before plopping down on the couch. He stretched out his legs and took out his phone. When you needed more information on someone, what do you do?

Rick clicked on Facebook.

He spent a few minutes scrolling before he found Negan. The profile picture was a bit old, about five years ago old. Still, the man was recognizable. Not much had changed in five years, it seemed. Rick went through Negan's page, not finding much in terms of information, as the whole thing hadn't been kept up to date. It did say he was single, and he worked at the high school. Interesting. He'd have to talk to Carl. Try and slip it into normal conversation.

While the Facebook profile might not have been updated, there was an Instagram account linked to it. That was the only recent posts to the page, pictures with no captions. Rick tapped the screen until he was on Instagram, staring at the profile of MRNEGAN. To his surprise, he had several thousand followers.

The most recent picture was several hours ago and of the cat. It was perched on the porch railing, orange fur radiating in the sun. There was a handful of likes and comments, but Negan didn't caption it. In fact, as Rick clicked on each picture, he didn't caption anything.

Most of the things he posted were landscapes, perhaps taken without a second thought. Occasionally, there was a picture of a plant, a cigarette, more of the cat, and even a book or two. Negan also posted selfies.

Those were the ones Rick lingered on most.

Negan was, quite frankly, a good-looking man. He had this rugged, messy look to him. It seemed his followers weren't blind to his looks either. Rick didn't read many of the comments.

He had one picture pulled up, a front-camera pic of Negan looking off to the side with a cigarette in between his lips. His head was tipped back, a piece of dark hair in his face. Rick's thumb hovered over the image, as he stared and stared.

"Dad." Rick dropped his phone on his chest and looked over, eyes on Carl standing in the doorway. Carl gave him a funny look. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

Carl nodded. "Okay. You got…" he trailed off. Carl turned, glancing into the kitchen. "Look, you don't have to tiptoe around me. I'm not a little kid anymore. You can date. I don't care."

Rick furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about? I'm not dating anyone."

Carl rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He turned away and went back down the hall. Rick picked up his phone from where it fell and closed out of Negan's Instagram. Too much, too much.

He stood up and walked into the kitchen. On the counter was a single red rose in a small vase. Rick stopped in front of it and looked down, breathing in, then out. Carl thought he was going behind his back and dating. And that he was lying to him. Great. Rick frowned and touched the card on the stem. He opened it, roughly swallowing.

 _You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?_

Rick ripped off the note and held it, smashing it in his fist. He peered out the kitchen window, and when he saw no one, he pulled the curtain closed.

He was being watched, evidently, and by someone who knew what he was planning to do. But why would they care? Unless Negan had more enemies than he knew. Negan, a man who took mirror selfies and pictures of a stray cat.

He should have tossed the rose and the note. Instead, Rick took the vase into the bedroom and set it on the dresser. The note went in his nightstand.

* * *

In the morning, Rick made pancakes and indirectly asked Carl about Negan. "I haven't heard you talk about school much," Rick said, cutting up Judith's pancake. "Is everything going okay?"

"I guess."

"Your teachers not too hard on you?"

A second of hesitation. "No."

"Carl."

"They're not hard on us, exactly. They're just jerks." Carl picked at his food. "I take gym this year. My teacher takes it way too seriously sometimes."

"Really."

"Yeah. But he's cool, I guess. He has a lot of neat stories. We don't know if they're true or not most of the time but." Carl shrugged. He looked over at Rick. "He's been tutoring me."

"In gym?

"No, not in gym." Carl shook his head. "I suck at math, so sometimes during lunch, he helps me catch up."

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling in math?"

Carl shrugged.

Rick picked up his glass of milk. "I'm not angry. I'm glad you're getting help." A pause. "What's his name?"

"He tells us to call him Negan."

Rick took a drink.

* * *

It was when Rick picked Carl up from school a couple days later, when he got too close.

He sat in the parking lot, radio on low and air conditioner on high. Rick tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, mouthing along to the generic country song. Behind him, Judith sang along in her own way. Rick glanced toward the school's double doors as a rush of kids came out. Carl didn't stand out amongst them, but as the crowd began to disperse, Rick saw his son with Negan. They were walking, side by side, talking and laughing. Negan had his hands shoved in his pockets, leather jacket unzipped, the school mascot peeking out on his t-shirt. Hanging off his shirt collar was a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

Rick breathed in, eyes narrowing. His mouth still moved to the song lyrics, but his mind was elsewhere, miles ahead. Was Carl going to let Negan follow him to the car? Why would he do that? Negan couldn't see Rick. That wouldn't be good. Not at all. Rick leaned in, chin resting on his hand, hesitant to do something. What could he do? The best thing he could do was nothing at all.

A girl stopped Negan as Carl and he crossed the parking lot. She held out a notebook to Negan, her face creased with worry. Negan crouched, getting to her level, and pulled the glasses off his shirt. He slid them on and took the notebook from her. Carl glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Negan, but didn't wait for him. He continued to the car and opened the door, sliding into the passenger's seat.

Rick cleared his throat and turned down the radio. "How was school?" he asked, looking ahead. From his peripheral, he saw Carl buckle in, dig in his backpack.

"It was fine."

Negan pointed at something on the notebook, looked at the girl, and gestured as he talked.

"That's good, yeah." Carl reached over and turned up the radio, wrinkled his nose, and switched the station. Rick shifted in his seat, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and pushing them on. "School should be good."

"What are we sitting here for?"

The girl seemed to thank Negan, an expression of relief on her features. Negan laughed, grinning widely, as he stood up. She left him, and Negan turned his head, hands on his hips, and looked toward Rick, or in his general direction. Rick couldn't be certain. Negan took off his glasses and stepped forward.

Rick drove away.

* * *

He needed to do this soon. Gregory was depending on him. It was becoming increasingly evident Rick was putting his own life on the line each day he didn't kill Negan. Another rose was waiting for him with a message.

 _Is this your first time dragon hunting?_

Rick was angry at first. Of course, this wasn't his first time. Who was this, and what did they know? Negan had shown no signs of being the devil Gregory was afraid of, but if he was receiving messages like this, then he must be on the right track. There was another company out there, the Saviors, who were competition. Negan must have another hit out on him. That was the only explanation Rick could think of.

It was two in the morning. Rick laid in bed, his lamp still on. He pressed his lips to his phone, cursed, and tapped in a number. Rick held the phone to his ear.

"Rick!"

He rubbed his face. "Gregory, the contract. Negan. I think someone's following me. He must have angered more people than you."

Gregory was quiet for a few minutes. "As much as I'd hate to see you die, Rick, this needs to be done. Push on. And if you can't do it—"

Rick hung up, phone dropping to his chest. He ran his fingers through his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, the roses mocked him. He huffed and picked up his phone. His thumbs seemed to have a mind of their own. Seconds later, Rick was on MRNEGAN's account, staring at his latest upload.

Negan, with his salt and pepper stubble and scrunched up face, was nose to nose with the cat. Unlike the other ones, this one had a caption. _Friend._

He closed out of the page and rolled over, plugging his phone in to charge.

* * *

This was different from his previous contracts. None of them were intertwined in his life before. While Negan was only one of Carl's teachers and nothing more, it was still more of a connection than anyone else Rick was assigned to kill. That alone made him wonder how Carl would react when he found out his gym teacher was dead. That is, if Rick managed to kill the fucker.

It was a Thursday afternoon, Carl was in school, Maggie and Glenn had Judith, and Negan wasn't home. However, waiting on Negan's porch was the cat. Good thing cats couldn't talk.

Rick stood in front of the front door and tried his damnedest not to look suspicious as he picked at the lock. It was better to do these things at night, when the individual was out somewhere, and there was less chances of being caught, but Negan seemed to always stay in. Rick had limited options.

The lock clicked, and Rick let out a sigh of relief. He stuck the pick in his back pocket as he opened the door, sliding inside. The last thing he saw before he shut the door was the cat staring, eyes wide and paw raised.

He walked carefully throughout the house, mentally mapping the layout of Negan's house. Rick had done this far too many times. It was easier to already have the layout in your head, when you set out to finally do the deed. The most important rooms were the bedroom and bathroom. You absolutely needed to know where those were before leaving.

Negan's house was as simple as it looked on the outside. There wasn't much decorating the walls, the occasional picture or two. There was a blanket strewn across the couch, as if it was regularly slept on. Rick moved down the hall, stopping next to one of the pictures hanging. Despite the lack of lighting, Rick could tell Negan was in the picture, Negan and a woman. A wife? Girlfriend? The relationship must not have ended well, because the glass was cracked several times. Why was it still hanging up?

He found the bathroom and the bedroom soon after. There was an eerie sort of stillness in the air, especially in the bedroom. Rick couldn't explain it. He stood in the doorway and looked at the bed. The covers were pressed and not a crease was in them. It looked as if no one had slept in the bed for days. Rick frowned.

He couldn't poke around any longer than was necessary. Rick charted the house in his head as he walked through it several times. Nothing was out of the ordinary, besides Negan's odd sleeping arrangement, but that didn't warrant the man to be killed, though. Rick didn't know what he expected to find. Maybe some hard evidence that Negan was a demon, a disgusting man, a weapon, blackmail pictures, anything. There was nothing, and Rick didn't know how he felt about that.

But Gregory had said.

When he left the house, the cat was gone. Rick locked the door back, went to his car, and drove away.

* * *

The times where Rick actually went to the park, he liked to bring Judith. Even though she was too young to run with the other children on her own, she still had fun. Rick didn't mind to push her on a swing or go on the merry-go-round with her. Hearing her laugh was enough. Carl was at that age where he wouldn't be caught dead at the park with his father. His loss.

They didn't stay at the park for long, as Judith tended to tire quickly. Rick took his time going back to the car, cradling Judith to his chest as he walked. Trips to the park ensured Judith would sleep through the night.

Once home, Rick gave a grumpy Judith a bath before wrapping her up in bed. He checked on Carl, who was doing homework, and went into the kitchen. Rick had seen the rose when he came in, but he wasn't going to drop Judith just to see what his twisted admirer and stalker had to say.

Rick tried to remain calm, keep a casual composure, as he pulled the note off the flower.

 _When the wind blows, the cradle will rock._

He froze, the letters on the paper running together until it was an unintelligible blur. Rick swallowed, lifted a hand, and rubbed at his eyes. This… this… Rick picked the rose up and ducked his head, walking down the hall and into the bedroom. He shut the door behind him and just… breathed.

A nursery rhyme. He had been sent a nursery rhyme. If he wasn't already sure he was being followed, he was pretty damn positive now. Someone had seen Rick and Judith together. At the park? Were they seen at the park?

Shit.

Rick dropped the note in the nightstand, the rose on the dresser, and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't think, he couldn't think, of anything else. Rick didn't care if he was being threatened, but his kids? That was another game.

He went to the dresser, crouching, and opened up a drawer. Rick shoved aside socks and underwear, knives and bullets, and pulled out his gun. He stood up, shoving it into his waistband, and moved toward the door.

No, this was irresponsible. Rick pulled his hand away, fingers inches away from the doorknob. He couldn't up and leave, go on a rampage and take his anger out on Negan.

Negan was the reason why he was being threatened, why it was known Rick had a daughter.

No, this wasn't the right thing to do. He had to have a clear head. Judith wasn't going to be harmed. It was just something to rile him up, and it was working.

Rick wasn't going to play their game. He stowed the gun back in the dresser and got ready for bed. Before he laid down, he checked on Carl again and gave Judith bristly, wet kisses.

In the morning, another rose was waiting.

 _Darling, don't try that. You know it won't work._

At the moment, Rick didn't know when he _wasn't_ being watched. It was better to assume he was at all times, then not.

* * *

Soon, there were nine roses on Rick's bedroom dresser.

 _Hickory, dickory, dock. The mouse ran up the clock._

 _A wise old owl lived in an oak. The more he saw, the less he spoke. The less he spoke, the more he heard. Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?_

 _When the pie was opened the birds began to sing, oh wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?_

 _Three blind mice, three blind mice. See how they run, see how they run._

 _Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn—will you wake him? No, not I—for if I do, he's sure to cry._

They were sticking with the nursery rhyme theme, because they knew it was working. Rick hated that it was getting to him. What could he do? He was perfectly fine with being overwhelmed with roses and snippets of nursery rhymes if it meant Judith and Carl would be safe. They could have Negan. He probably wasn't worth it.

But Rick couldn't leave the job unfinished. He couldn't. It wasn't like him, and he knew it'd eat away at him, from the back of his mind.

That night. That night he was going to do it. Rick had called Carol, asked her to watch Judith and keep an eye on Carl. He went to wait on the front porch for Carol, coat on, gloves in his pocket, and gun pressed to his back.

Rick opened the door, and two roses greeted him.

 _Atta boy._

 _How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?_

He put them away with the rest before Carol arrived.

Tonight was a good enough chance as any to commit a crime.

* * *

As Rick walked and he got closer to Negan's house, he noticed it was empty. There was no car parked out front, and all the lights were off. It was about nine, which struck Rick as odd. Each time he drove by Negan's house around this hour, the man was home. It didn't matter. Rick could wait for him.

The cat wasn't outside, perhaps returning to its usual sleeping place. Rick unlocked the front door and stepped inside. He quietly shut the door behind him and locked it. The house stood still. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Rick, wetting his lips, reached behind him and wrapped his fingers around his gun. He needed to be ready whenever Negan decided to come home. He would find a place and wait, maybe in the bedroom.

He walked down the hallway, heart pounding against his ribs. With his usual hits, it was a quick in and out. Just a squeeze of a trigger. This time, though, upon reflection, Rick might have waited too long before acting. He wanted to be sure. Was that so hard to understand? Even now, he wasn't as positive as he would have liked to be. His only evidence was Gregory's word and the roses he was receiving. A number of people wanted Negan dead, and it seemed to be a race to get to him first.

Rick stopped in the bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed. It looked like it hadn't been slept in since he last saw it. Negan must fix the covers really well. Or he didn't sleep in here. Rick frowned.

If someone else had a hit out on Negan, why were they wasting their time threatening Rick? They could have easily beat him to it. Why the game?

The closet door opened, just a smidge. Rick turned sharply toward it, holding his breath. For a second, there was nothing, until the cat poked its head around the corner of the door. Rick furrowed his brow at the orange feline. The cat sat next to the dresser, tail draped over its paws. It watched him.

Rick loosened his grip on his gun, and then the floor creaked.

"We haven't officially met yet." Rick widened his eyes and turned again. In the doorway, with his hair combed back, leather jacket zipped up, and a hint of a red scarf peeking out, was Negan. He smiled, nodding his head back. "Hi, I'm Negan."

Rick pulled out his gun, grip tightened and finger on the trigger. He aimed at Negan and was greeted with a gun himself. Rick paled, and in that moment's hesitation, Negan shot.

The next thing Rick felt was a searing pain in his left shoulder. He glanced over, seeing blood begin to collect. The pain was evident, but the bullet had just grazed him, slid right over the skin. Not through him, not through him. Rick bit back a gasp, any cry of pain, and looked back at Negan. He held the gun up, just as Negan tossed his aside and ran over, ramming his shoulder into Rick's chest. They fell to the ground, Rick losing his grip on his gun and dropping it some feet away.

"Shit, goddamn mess," Negan breathed out, punching Rick on the cheek. Rick allowed himself to grunt, hands reaching to slap, punch, scratch at Negan's face. He ignored the sharp pain in his chest, the ache in his shoulder, and kept at it. Rick squirmed underneath Negan, one hand on his chest as he bent his leg, jamming his knee into Negan's side until he fell off him.

Negan got to his hands and knees, catching his breath. He looked over, narrowing his eyes at the cat, now on top of the dresser. "Why the fuck are you watching?"

Rick stretched out a leg and kicked Negan in the side. He scrambled on the floor, scooting back and reaching out. His fingers brushed against the gun, almost there, and Negan yanked on one of Rick's legs, dragging him away. Rick twisted in Negan's grip, arms out and flailing. He dug his elbows into the carpet and tried to crawl away.

Negan laughed. "Look at this shit. Crawling like a child." He moved, hovering on top of Rick, and wrapped an arm around his neck. Negan squeezed. "If you're going to kill me, I believe you at least owe me the respect of doing a half-ass job of it," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in Rick's ear.

His vision was getting blurry. Rick arched his back, trying to buck Negan off, but the man had a firm grip. He shut his eyes, knuckles bared on the floor, and threw his head back. Rick collided with something hard, and Negan shouted, his hold on Rick disappearing.

"Holy shit!"

Rick coughed, forehead to the floor, as he fought to catch his breath. He lifted his head and looked at Negan, on his back and hands to his nose. Negan lowered them, blood coating his nose, mouth, palms. It dripped down his fingers. "Son of a bitch," he spat out. Negan stretched an arm above his head, sliding under the bed. Rick snapped to it, leaping over and straddling Negan, hands to the man's throat. As his fingers pressed against that red scarf, Negan held a knife to Rick's neck.

"Harder."

Rick gave Negan a look. Negan laughed. He wrinkled his nose, brought his arm back, and punched Negan in the face. The knife dropped, and Rick stood up. He scooped his gun off the floor and turned, pressing a foot to Negan's chest before he could recover. Rick held the gun out, rolling his shoulders despite himself. "Any last words?"

Negan stared at the gun in Rick's hands, his eyes crossing. He cleared his throat and looked at him, bloodied lips pressing together for a moment. "Jokes on you," he said. "I like being stepped on."

Rick's grip faltered for a second, arm lowering. "Really?"

"Really really." Negan bent a leg, the heel of a boot digging into the floor, and arched, his other leg to his chest as he twisted, squirmed, and kicked Rick's leg, and then hooked his ankle around it. Rick's knee buckled, and he fell. Negan turned them over, pressing Rick to the floor. He knocked the gun out of his hands and grabbed Rick's wrists, squeezing them together. Negan loomed over Rick, like a succubus with a bleeding nose. He laughed. "Didn't anticipate this, did ya? Putting up more of a fight than you thought?"

Rick kneed Negan in the side again and again, but the man didn't waver. Negan slid down, holding Rick's wrists in one hand, as he grabbed Rick's ankle. Rick hissed and struggled underneath him. "Shut up," he managed, as Negan moved in between his legs, the hand on his ankle a vice grip. Negan jerked, Rick's leg bending at an awkward angle to rest on Negan's shoulder.

"You're Rick, right?"

"Excuse me?"

Negan shook his head. "It doesn't fucking matter if you kill me, Rick. You'll have a target on your back for the rest of your days." He leaned in, sweat or blood dripping from his face and landing on Rick's cheek. Rick couldn't tell the difference. "You see, Rick, I have fucking people. Good people. Dependable people. Who do you have? Fucking Gregory."

Rick yanked at his hands in Negan's grip, leg gaining a dull cramp. If he shifted, Negan pressed closer, making his leg bend further. Best if he stayed still. Negan had people, he said. Maybe that's who was threatening him. Warning him not to get Negan, unless he'd die, too. It wasn't competition, but protection. "I've already met your people," he said, voice raspy.

Negan raised his brows. "Have you?"

Rick tipped his head back. He swallowed. "The roses."

Negan was quiet for a moment, looking down at Rick's face. His eyes scanned his features, and Rick couldn't read his expression. "I sent you those, Rick," he whispered. "No one knows about you except me and good ol' Gregory."

Rick froze.

"See, Gregory wanted me to fucking work for him, and he kept giving me a shitty deal. I wanted to be equal partners, but he did not want anything to do with me or my guys."

"You're... Christ."

Negan laughed. "Not quite, but I do lead the Saviors." Rick squeezed his eyes closed. He felt Negan's breath on his lips. "Gregory didn't tell you that, did he?"

"No."

Negan let go of Rick's wrists, moving to set a hand on either side of Rick's head. He looked down at him. "What did he tell you?"

"That you were a bad guy. Dangerous. Might have it out for him."

He laughed again. "That asshole is so fucking twitchy." Negan sniffed, leaning on one hand to pat Rick's cheek with the other. It stung. "You've seen what I fucking do every day." Rick narrowed his eyes. Negan nodded. "Yeah, I saw you outside all those days. Fucking watching me. You get off on that, you pervert? Peeping on me, going through my house when I'm not here?"

Rick shook his head. "Only once."

Negan grabbed Rick's chin. "What?"

"I've only been in your house once. Once before this."

Negan stared at him, fingers digging. He pulled his hand away, sitting back on his heels. Rick lowered his leg from Negan's shoulder, letting it fall. "Get the hell out of my house."

Rick pushed back, dragging away from Negan. He scrambled to his feet and looked around. Gun, where was his—Negan extended his arm, holding out the weapon for him. Rick stared at him and took it, eyes narrowing. He tucked it behind him. "I… I can't." Rick frowned. "Gregory said—"

"—fuck what Gregory said." Negan stood up and walked over to Rick. He narrowed his eyes. "Go. And let the cat out. He's not supposed to be in here anyway."

Rick stayed there, matching Negan's expression. Then, he turned away and found the cat still on the dresser. Rick scooped up the cat and carried him out.

* * *

The cat safely on the porch, Rick sat in his car to catch his breath. He had only spent twenty minutes in Negan's house, and yet it felt like hours. Rick leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel. He screwed his eyes shut, allowing himself to shake and shudder and revel in his fucking pain. His head hurt, there was blood on his face—he could feel it—and to top it all off, he had a bullet wound in his shoulder. Luckily, it didn't amount to anything, as bullet wounds go. Rick was in a coma once, because of a goddamn bullet, so he was thankful this time he wasn't bedridden again.

He reached up, turning on the overhead light. Rick stared at his shoulder, twisting to get the light properly shining on it. There was blood on his shoulder, coating his jacket and no doubt staining it. Shit, he had been lucky enough not to run into this sort of mess. How was he supposed to get the blood out?

Rick slowly lifted his arm, immediately regretting it as a sharp pain shot through him and brought tears to his eyes. He leaned his head back, pressing fingers to the injury. In the heat of the moment, as he fought Negan, he wasn't concerned with the pain, but now, when he had a few minutes to think, he let it envelope him.

None of this made any sense. Why would Gregory do this to him? He had set him up. Did Gregory really think he was that stupid? He must have, because Rick fell for it. If he messed up a job, he wasn't supposed to come back. Fuck that.

"Rick!" He jolted, turning in his seat and looking toward the house. On the porch was Negan, gun in one hand, and arms outstretched. "Rick!" he repeated, voice hoarse. "What the hell are you still doing here?" He took a step forward.

Rick bit the inside of his cheek and threw his arm up, smashing the button to the overhead light. He switched on the car and drove, tires squeaking and tracks no doubt being left behind. In the rearview mirror, he watched as Negan stopped in the middle of the road, arms at his sides.

Gregory owed him. He fucking did.

* * *

The door flew open, and Rick stumbled inside. "Gregory!" he yelled. He kept his hand pressed to his shoulder, glancing around the office. "Where's Gregory?"

Maggie rushed over, eyes wide as she grabbed a hold of Rick's arms. "Jesus Christ, Rick, what the hell happened?" She helped him stand upright, studying him. "Gregory's… not here. It's late, Rick, and—"

"—don't fucking cover for him, Maggie," Rick said, shaking his head. "I need to talk to him. It's important." He hung his head, breathing in. "It's important."

Maggie frowned and pulled her hands back. "Rick, what—" she stopped, her question dropping off. Maggie wrapped her fingers around Rick's wrist and pulled his hand away. "Were you shot?" she asked.

Rick glanced at her. "Yeah. By Negan."

She let go of his hand. "Negan?"

"Yeah. Leader of the Saviors. Do you know him? Gregory wanted me to kill him. Didn't even tell me that's who I was killing."

Maggie pressed her lips together, eyes narrowing. "Gregory!" She spun around and walked out of the room, marching up the stairs. Rick didn't hesitate to follow her. Maggie shoved open a door and stepped inside. "Get up," she said, moving toward the bed in the center of the room. "Gregory, damn it. I know you're not sleeping."

Gregory sat up, hands lifting and seeming to shield his head. "What's all this about?" he asked, pushing the covers aside and sliding out of bed. "Marsha, you're supposed to be on watch. What's Rick doing here, without an appointment?" He set his hands on his hips and gave Maggie a wide-eye, expectant look.

She clenched her jaw and pointed at Rick. "You told him to kill _Negan_?" Maggie took a step forward, Gregory lifting his hands again. "That was a suicide mission! What the hell were you thinking?"

"Now, Marsha, calm down. Rick is a competent hitman. He knew what he was getting into when he accepted the contract."

Maggie opened her mouth, but Rick stepped forward. "Excuse me?" he spat. "I knew what I was getting into? How was I supposed to know what you were throwing at me? You didn't give me anything except his name, address, and job! You didn't think it would be a good idea to mention that he was the head of the Saviors?" Rick gestured at his shoulder. "The asshole shot me!"

Gregory glanced between Rick and Maggie. He narrowed his eyes. "It sounds like you didn't kill him," he said, walking around the bed. Gregory shook his head. "That's ruined! We can't try that again." He rubbed his face, his temples. "Rick, you know the rules. If you botch a job, you can't come—"

Maggie stepped forward, arm back, and punched Gregory in the jaw. As he stumbled against the bedframe, Maggie dropped her arm and moved to be level with him. "My name is Maggie, and I have been working with you for years. Get my fucking name right." She pointed at Rick over her shoulder with her other hand, the one she used to punch Gregory with still balled up at her side. "You are not allowed to send Rick or any of our employees out on suicide missions. Ignoring the rest of the ethical issues with our career, that is a shitty thing to do." Maggie straightened up, crossing her arms over her chest, hands stuffed underneath her arms. "You're a coward. Were you fed up with negotiating with Negan that you decided to just kill him off?"

Rick grimaced. "Negan told me he wanted to be equal partners, but you said no."

Gregory, a hand still on his jaw, looked at Maggie and then at Rick. "Ezekiel backed off. Willingly. I thought, given enough time—"

"—that I'd roll over and let you pet my soft, little tummy?" The three of them turned, eyes landing on Negan, who was leaning against the open doorway. Negan laughed. "I am no fucking pussy cat, Gregory. First mistake!"

Gregory moved around the bed post, trying to hide behind it. Rick reached behind him, grabbing a hold of his gun, and Maggie pushed the sleeve of her shirt up, removing the dagger strapped to her forearm. She brandished it at Negan. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?"

Negan took his gun out of his jacket pocket and aimed it at Maggie. He raised an eyebrow. "Lower it, sweetheart. We can talk like civilized people." Maggie frowned, but lowered the dagger, thumb tracing along the edge. Negan smiled. "Good!" He looked at Rick, pointing the gun at him, then. "You too, darling. Lower it." Rick bit back a retort and dropped his arm. "This is good! Now, we can have a nice chat."

Rick pursed his lips and stuck his gun back in the waistband of his jeans. "Got a little something," he started, lifting a hand and gesturing at his face, the bloody lower half. Negan didn't have time to clean up, it seemed. Neither did Rick. What a sight the both of them were. Negan narrowed his eyes for a moment and then smiled.

"I guess I was so damn preoccupied, I forgot to make myself presentable." Negan lifted his arm, rubbing his nose with the back of a hand. He winced, lowering his hand and rolling his shoulders. "Damn, that hurt." Negan laughed. "Got me good, Rick. You got me good."

Maggie frowned and slid the dagger back in the holster. "Why are you here? What do you want to talk about?" She crossed her arms again. "Get to the point."

Negan moved his eyes away from Rick and stared at Maggie. He wet his lips and scratched the back of his head with the gun. "Got anywhere we can sit? We should make ourselves comfortable."

"We can go to the office," Maggie said.

"My office," Gregory added, stepping forward. Negan looked at him, pointing his gun back at Gregory, who immediately recoiled, hands providing a weak form of protection.

"No. As far as I'm fucking concerned, I'm not dealing with you anymore. I'm going to talk to… Maggie, was it?" Negan glanced at Maggie, eyebrows raising. Maggie nodded, standing a little straighter. "I'm going to talk to Maggie and Rick, because I'm pretty damn positive we can work out a better deal than that piece of shit you threw at me." Negan lowered his gun and stuck it in his pocket. He held out an arm, gesturing grandly. "Lead the way."

Maggie glanced at Rick, not bothering to look at Gregory. Rick didn't blame her. He gave her a short nod, she smiled for a moment, and faced front. Maggie moved out of the room, stepping aside Negan as she walked into the hall. Rick followed after her, Negan behind him. He closed the door, leaving Gregory in the dark. Rick heard Negan chuckle.

The three of them went down the stairs and walked right into Gregory's office. Maggie, without a second's hesitation, moved to sit behind the desk. She sat at the edge of her seat, hands folding on the desk's surface. Rick dragged two chairs to the desk, one for him, one for Negan. He sat down, sighing. Negan dropped in his own chair, slouching, legs stretched out.

He lifted his hand, rubbing at the dried blood underneath his nose. "Alright. We're here." Negan sniffed, nose wrinkling, and let his hand fall. He looked at Maggie, tipping his head to the side. "Is Maggie short for Margaret?"

"Just call me Maggie."

"Huh." Negan watched her, looked over at Rick, and then back at her. "Are you married, Maggie? I see that pretty ring on your finger."

Maggie frowned. "I get enough inappropriate comments from Gregory. I don't need them from you."

Negan raised his hands. "It was a simple question. I've only been able to talk to Gregory, and that man's as boring as a textbook." He propped his head up with a hand. "So?"

"So what."

"Are you married?"

Maggie narrowed her eyes. "Yes. Happily."

Negan sighed, shaking his head. "All the best ones are." He looked over at Rick. "What about you?"

Rick furrowed his brow. "You didn't find that out with your peeping?"

"Hey, you peeped first." Negan pointed at Rick. "And no, I didn't."

"I'm not married," Rick answered, voice low. He looked ahead, at Maggie, but he could feel Negan's eyes still on him.

"That is fucking interesting."

Maggie cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind her ear. "Let's talk business. That's why you're here. I'm willing to make the Hilltop and Saviors equal partners, providing your group knows how to cooperate."

Negan leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles and pressing his palms together, fingers underneath his chin. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Maggie."

"Good. I would also like to suggest something else. This move won't be made permanent until a month has passed. Until then, everything will be a test run. If it doesn't work out, we can adjust the deal. If it does, everything will be the same as it had throughout the month, except the deal would be made permanent." Maggie smiled.

"Careful, cautious, smart." Negan clapped and sat up, perching on the edge of his seat. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I like the way you think, Maggie. I can assure you, though, my group definitely knows how to cooperate."

Maggie lifted a hand. "Another thing. The base of operations will be the Hilltop. Right here, in this office."

Negan frowned. "What the hell's wrong with the factory?"

"It's a factory." Maggie shrugged. "That's my offer. You all will be reporting to me, not Gregory. Gregory will pass jobs along to me, which I'll distribute to them. They will not be going on jobs by themselves. Each team will have a member from the Hilltop with them. They will not be communicating with Gregory at all."

"Why the hell not?"

"Call it a hunch, but I think they're going to rile him up. On purpose. To start something. I will not let that happen." Maggie leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "That's my offer," she repeated. "Take it or leave it. In my opinion, it's a hell of a lot better than what Gregory gave you."

Negan rubbed his hands together, fingers curling and uncurling. He cocked his head back. "You think you can handle my guys?"

"I know I can."

He wet his lips, smiling. "Damn, Maggie. You sure know how to sway a guy." Negan stood up, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans. He extended a hand. "You have a deal."

Maggie stood, too, and took Negan's hand. "A month. One toe out of line, and we'll definitely be reconsidering."

"You have my word, and I'll pass it along, ma'am." After releasing Maggie's hand, Negan gave a salute. "Scout's honor."

"Leave." Maggie sat back down, leaning in her chair. "We're done here."

Negan gave an amused sort of expression and nodded. He glanced at Rick, shrugged, and walked toward the door. He slipped out without another word.

Maggie bowed her head, face in her hands. She sighed. "Did I do the right thing?" she asked.

Rick got out of his chair, nodding. "Yes, I think you did. It was reasonable. Had precautions, safety measures." Rick rubbed his chin. "They'll be equal partners with us." He frowned. "Do you know what Gregory had given them?"

She let out a laugh. "I think it was a thirty-seventy type thing. He's an idiot. He wore down Ezekiel with his number crunching until he decided to give Gregory all of the Kingdom. I think it was a mistake, but Gregory didn't want any help with negotiating." Maggie curled her fingers along the arms of the chair. "Turns out Gregory would rather commit murder than negotiate with Negan anymore."

"Negan isn't like Ezekiel. He said so himself."

Maggie hummed. She turned in the chair. "I'm sorry he put you up to that. It was an awful thing to do."

"Yeah… Negan found out what had happened. He ended up following me. Sent me a few threatening messages. I didn't know it was Negan until I," Rick stopped, shaking his head.

She looked at him, a small frown on her lips. "Why didn't you ask me for help?"

"Gregory told me it was a secret mission. I couldn't tell anyone. And I suppose… my pride got in the way, too."

Maggie nodded. "Do you want me to look at your shoulder?"

"No, bullet just grazed me."

"Then go home, Rick. Get some rest." She paused. "Don't let your kids see you like this."

Rick managed a laugh. "Yeah, I'll just stop at the gas station and clean up in the bathroom."

"That's not funny," Maggie said, fighting back a smile. "Go home. If you need anything, you can call me. Either I'll pick up or Glenn." She scrunched up her face. "Let's hope it's me."

"Let's hope it's you." Rick turned away, waving a hand behind him. "Goodnight, Maggie."

"Goodnight, Rick."

Scratching at a spot of blood on his face, Rick walked out of the office, glanced up the stairs to Gregory's bedroom, door still closed, and continued his walk out of the Hilltop. Despite laughing about it, Rick was really considering stopping at a gas station to clean up. Carol was watching Carl and Judith, and while she would understand what had gone on, he didn't want them to see him like this. Judith would be in bed, but Carl might still be awake. It was nearing ten, and Rick was nervous to go home.

He slid into his car and shut the door, allowing himself a moment to settle back and breathe. Again, he was too focused on Gregory, on Maggie and Negan, that he didn't allow any consideration as to what he was feeling. If he kept ignoring the pain, it would only grow worse whenever he went to acknowledge it. Rick cursed underneath his breath when he rolled his shoulder and found it still hurt. Of course, it still hurt, he told himself. _You got fucking shot._

There was a tap on the window. Rick turned his head, eyes narrowing. Negan smiled back at him, waving his fingers. He tapped on the window again, and Rick rolled it down. "Hi," Negan said, hands in his pockets.

Rick swallowed. "What do you want?"

"I need a ride home."

Rick touched the steering wheel. He furrowed his brow and looked around. "Didn't you drive here?"

Negan let out an exasperated sigh, removing his hand from his pocket. He had his gun out, pointing it at Rick's head. Negan pursed his lips, leaning to the side. "Drive me home, Rick. It doesn't matter if I drove here. My car will get back home eventually." He waved the gun. "Unlock the door, and let me in."

Rick took a deep breath, his attention moving from Negan to his gun and back to Negan. He clenched his jaw and pushed the button, the passenger's side door unlocking. "Get in."

"Oh, goody." Negan walked around the car and hopped inside, shutting the door with a smile. He pulled on his seatbelt, making sure to keep the gun out and ready at all times. He leaned back, lifting a leg to prop a foot on the dashboard. "Cool. You know where my house is." Negan looked at Rick, the smile still on his face. "How about an apology, Rick? 'Sorry for trying to kill you, Negan! I hope there isn't any hard feelings!'" Negan laughed and reached over, patting Rick's thigh. "No hard feelings, Rick. Don't you worry about a thing." He gave Rick's thigh a rub.

Rick drove.


	2. The Payoff

The road was long, dark, and the car was quiet. Rick made no move to start a conversation with Negan, and he didn't seem to want to do the same either, despite the smile still on his lips. In fact, Negan hadn't moved at all. He still had his gun in hand, pointed at Rick, his other hand giving Rick's thigh the occasional rub. It was like an afterthought, an "oh, my hand is still here", and Negan responded with another press, the drag of his palm against fabric. It made Rick's skin prickle with anticipation, excitement, and a bit of fear. He barely knew the man, but Rick felt like he _knew_ him, or at least the image of Negan he chose to portray. But Rick had watched him when he was alone, when Negan sat on his porch in the evenings and played with a stray cat.

Rick glanced at Negan from the corner of his eye, to find Negan already staring at him, the dark eyes narrowed in concentration. He looked back at the road, knitting his brows. Negan wasn't going to break the silence, and Rick had a comment on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed and tightened his hold on the steering wheel. "For the leader of a group of hitmen," Rick started, "you're a lousy shot."

The statement lingered in the air, and Rick was hesitant to turn and see Negan's reaction. Lucky for him, he didn't have to move his eyes from the road to experience his reaction. Negan squeezed his thigh and leaned forward, pressing the gun right to Rick's cheek. At the cool touch of metal, Rick jumped, sliding to the edge of his seat, chest almost against the steering wheel. Negan dug his fingers into his leg. "What did you just say to me?" he asked, voice low.

Dare he repeat it? Rick chewed on his lower lip, trying his best to keep his eyes ahead. He couldn't wreck. That would be bad for both of them. Negan must know that. Rick sniffed. "I said, for being a leader of a group of hitmen, you're a lousy shot." He turned his head, then, Negan pulling the gun back. Rick met Negan's eyes, holding his gaze. "You had a clear shot of me, and you barely got my shoulder." Rick looked back at the road. "Lousy shot."

Negan leaned back, hand moving from Rick's thigh to rest on his own. He laughed. "That was lousy, wasn't it?" Rick sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment in an attempt to relax. "Hey, Rick. Let me tell you a little secret. I think you earned it." Rick tipped his head to the side, turning part of his attention to Negan. Negan turned the gun over in his hands and shrugged. "This? It's not loaded. I only had one bullet, and I used it on you." He dropped the weapon on the floor. "Useless. Still makes people scared, though."

Rick found himself smiling. "Need to be better prepared. Although, it must not be a big deal, if you aren't going out and doing jobs." He settled back in his seat, bending his arm in a way to not strain his shoulder. "How do you manage being a high school teacher and doing… _this_?"

Negan was quiet for a moment. "You're right. I don't go out and do jobs as often as I have in the past. Trust me, the whole bloodthirst is still there." Negan threw up his arms, waving his hands. "No idiot has been compelling enough to off, I guess." He leaned an arm on the window, knuckles pressing into his cheek. "You never know, Rick. I might get back into it. What did Maggie say? A test run for a month? Might as well do some fucking running myself."

Rick hummed and turned down Negan's street. "I saw you at the school. You were with Carl. You guys seem to get along."

"The kid's a little shit, but I care about him." Negan shifted in his seat as the car slowed to a stop. "I thought I saw you. You had on a pair of fucking shades."

"You were wearing glasses, too." Rick stopped the car and looked over at him. "What are they for, reading?"

Negan took off his seatbelt and picked up his gun. "Can't wear fucking glasses when I'm killing. That's not cool." He opened the door and slid off his seat. Negan turned, leaning against the door. He studied Rick, head tipped to the side and lips pursed. "I meant what I said. No hard feelings. Business is business."

Rick nodded, hands rubbing the steering wheel. "Okay."

He smiled. "Cool. Come inside."

"What?"

"Come inside, Rick. I shot you. The least I could do is patch you up." Negan scratched his face. "I heard you talking with Maggie after I left. Gas station bathroom? Get real. I have fucking… Tylenol and shit." He pushed off from the car and turned, walking toward his house, as if expecting Rick to follow without complaint. Rick sat there, watching Negan as he dug in his pocket for his house keys. The rational side of Rick wanted to drive away, but the other part of him wanted to get out of the car and follow Negan inside. He waited, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel, and then got out of the car.

Carol was watching Carl and Judith. She understood what the job entailed.

It was odd, walking into Negan's house invited. The house gave off a more welcoming ambiance this time. Rick appreciated it, though the other times when he wasn't feeling welcome were his own fault. He trailed after Negan, who went through the dark house without turning on a light. The only light he switched on was in the bathroom. Rick lingered in the doorway, as Negan looked at his reflection in the mirror.

He scrunched up his face, wrinkling his nose, and pulled his scarf off. "Damn, I'm lucky you didn't break it." Negan tossed the scarf at Rick, who unceremoniously caught it. "You got a thick fucking head." Rick offered a small smile and threw the scarf in the direction of the bedroom. When he looked back into the bathroom, Negan was shrugging off his leather jacket and dropping it on the toilet. Underneath the jacket, Negan was wearing a t-shirt. It wasn't anything Rick hadn't seen him in before, but he still found himself staring.

Negan watched Rick in the mirror, tongue poking out from the corner of his smile. He spun on his heel and reached into the bathroom closet, grabbing a washcloth. Negan returned to the sink, holding the cloth under the water. "See something you like, Rick?" he asked.

Rick's mouth was dry. He swallowed and leaned against the doorframe. He had spent weeks watching Negan, cataloging his moves, and staring at picture after picture after picture of the guy. He had to be quiet, not tell anyone what he was up to, but now? He didn't have to be quiet. Rick crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

The answer seemed to catch Negan by surprise. Negan raised his brows and stood up straight. He looked at Rick's reflection and then turned, looking fully at Rick. Negan stared at him, lips parted, the same incredulous expression on his face. "Rick," he started, shaking his head. Negan faced forward, smiling again. He lifted the rag to his face, dabbing at his nose, scrubbing at his upper lip. "I didn't expect you to answer that."

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to." Rick couldn't see Negan's mouth, but he suspected there was a smile beneath that rag. Rick ducked his head down, staring at a spot on the floor. He listened as Negan hummed.

Negan finished wiping off his face, the only stains on his skin being the newly formed bruises on his cheeks and nose. He set the washcloth on the sink's edge, sticking his hand into his pocket to take out his phone. He glanced over at Rick before looking down at the device. Rick watched as Negan tapped away at the screen and then set it down on the counter. He said, "I have something else to tell you, Rick," as a jazz song began to play from his phone. It sounded like it was nearing the end. "Sit down first. Let me look at your shoulder." Negan picked up his leather jacket and moved to drape it over the clothes hamper.

Rick said nothing, only peeled off his coat and set it aside, with Negan's. He worked on unbuttoning his shirt, looking over and seeing the extent of the injury. It was just a graze, but it still tore through skin and brought blood. Quite a bit of blood. Rick had suffered through worse. Nothing was comparable to what he had endured. Rick looked over at Negan, raising his own brow and sliding his shirt off. "See something you like?"

The jazz song ended and transitioned into the next song. Rick frowned, and Negan's eyes widened. "I like this song," he said and went to turn it up. Rick rolled his eyes and sat down on the toilet, shifting to give Negan his shoulder. Negan bopped around as he dug in the medicine cabinet, pulling out peroxide and bandages. "Ro mah, ro-mah-mah," he murmured, spinning toward Rick. "Gaga oh-la-la, want your bad romance." Negan laughed as he refolded the washcloth, wetted it, and began to lightly dab at Rick's shoulder. "To your question, Rick, yes, I do."

Negan hunched over, concentrating on cleaning Rick's shoulder up the best he could. "Don't need stitches," he said, straightening up and reaching for the peroxide. He opened the bottle and poured a bit on the rag. Negan glanced at Rick. "This is going to hurt like a bitch," he said and pressed the rag to the wound.

Rick grabbed his knees and dug his fingers in. He screwed up his face and pressed his lips together, trying his hardest not to let out more than a muffled yell. He leaned forward, his head pressing into Negan's side. Above him, he heard Negan sing again as he wiped at the injury. "I want your love, and I want your revenge. You and me could write a bad romance." Rick squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in.

This was worth it, he tried to remind himself. If that got infected, there would be loads more pain. By the time Negan was finished wiping it down, the pain had subsided to a dull ache. He tossed the rag on the sink and tore a part of gauze off. Negan carefully pressed it to the bullet wound and paused. "Hold that," he said. Rick lifted his hand and rested his hand over the bandage, looking at Negan. "Tape's in the kitchen." He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Rick on the toilet with a burning shoulder and a Lady Gaga song. Rick could still hear Negan in the kitchen, his deep voice and specific manner of talking almost butchering the lyrics.

" _J'veux ton amour, et je veux ta revanche. J'veux ton amour._ " Negan returned to the bathroom, pointing at Rick with the medical tape. "I don't wanna be friends."

Rick stared at him. Negan stuck out his tongue and laughed. He went to Rick's side and tore a piece of tape off with his teeth. He began to press it to the gauze, sticking it to Rick's skin. "You're supposed to say the next line. You know? When I point at you?"

"Sorry," Rick said, dropping his hand when it was no longer needed. He looked at his shoulder, at the patching up Negan done. Rick lifted his arm, rolled his shoulder, and winced. Better than nothing. He looked at Negan. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Negan said. He put the remaining gauze back in the medicine cabinet, along with the peroxide and tape. "Now, you're going to be sore in the morning. You can pop a few Tylenol, if you want." Negan reached over and picked up his phone, the song pouring out of the speakers a soft rock one. He turned off the music, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

Rick stood up, reaching for his shirt. He carefully slipped it back on, not wanting to disturb the bandage too much. Rick's fingers traced over the buttons, slow to push them through. "I might take you up on that." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, glancing out into the hall, and then back at Negan. "You were going to tell me something," he said. "You wanted to look at my shoulder first."

Negan opened up the medicine cabinet again, taking out a contact case. "Oh yeah," he said. He unscrewed the lids and leaned forward, hips digging into the sink. Rick watched as Negan took out his contacts, dipping them into the solution after. "Your shoulder." Negan shut his eyes, rubbed, and opened them. He put the caps back on and stuck the contacts in the cabinet. "Well, truth be told, Rick, I really don't want to tell you." Negan turned, standing in front of Rick. He looked down at him. "You gonna button that sucker up?"

"I—"

"—let me get you that Tylenol." Negan turned off the bathroom light and walked out into the hall, leaving Rick to either stay in the dark or follow. He followed. Negan lead Rick into the kitchen, opening up the cabinet near the sink. He took out the Tylenol and shook one out. He handed it over. "Tap water's free."

Rick held the pill in a hand, gave Negan a look, and stuck it into his mouth. Negan reached into another cabinet and got out a glass. He filled it up for Rick and handed that over, too. Rick drank about half of it before setting it down. He swallowed and let out a sigh. "Why bring up something if you don't want to tell me?" Rick asked.

"Because I don't fucking think before I talk. I thought that was pretty damn clear." Negan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He shook his head. "Goddamn, Rick. If you keep looking at me with those baby blues, I might just tell you anything."

"How about you start with what you were going to tell me in there?" Rick said, picking up the glass. He took a drink.

Negan wrinkled his nose. "You said I was a lousy shot, but that's not true. I meant to get your shoulder."

Rick finished the water and set the glass back down. He stared at Negan. "Why the hell would you do that? I was going to kill you. And considering you only had that one bullet." Rick shook his head.

"Were you, Rick? Were you going to kill me?" Negan leaned forward, eyeing him.

"Yes," he said. "I always finish a job." Rick glanced down, watching Negan's tongue dart out to wet his lips. He looked back at him. "There's no more job, so I can't kill you now." Negan took a step back, chin tipped up. He studied Rick for a moment before turning away, heading down the hall again. "Why did you waste that bullet?" Rick called after him.

"I wouldn't call it a waste," Negan said. "I got to roll around on the floor with you. I could feel your cock against my ass when I was sitting on you. Also, I bet you loved being underneath me, legs spread wide open—perfect place for me to nestle down and get cozy."

Rick was rooted to the spot. He flexed his fingers at his sides and cleared his throat. Obviously, in the moment, Rick couldn't afford to think about that type of stuff. It was life and death, as far as Rick was concerned. It was either going to be him or Negan six feet under by the time the night was finished. The farthest thing from his mind was arousal. It wasn't important, and yet, Rick was aware of those sensations. It wasn't life and death now. He was here, being patched and cleaned up before going home. Rick had no contracts, just an order from Maggie to go home and get some sleep.

The floor creaked, and Rick lifted his head, staring at Negan in the doorway. He had his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. "Carl home? That little angel in bed?"

Rick shook his head. "Don't mention my kids."

"They got a babysitter? Someone from the fucking Hilltop watching them?"

"I said," Rick started, walking over to Negan, "don't mention my kids." He stopped in front of Negan, looking up at him. "I know you're in Carl's life, and I know you've… seen me and Judith, but don't mention them. Not right now."

Negan watched Rick, keeping quiet. Even though it was just a few seconds, it meant a lot to Rick. It seemed that Negan seemed to consider what he said, at least. Negan pushed himself off the wall, straightening up as he kept his eyes on Rick. "I'd like to fuck you, Rick, if you're up to it."

Rick paused, just for a moment. He swallowed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Yeah. Okay."

"Cool." Negan reached out, cupping Rick's face in between his hands, and leaned down, kissing him. Rick set his hands on Negan's arms, fingers curling against his skin as he kissed him back. He parted his lips and opened for Negan, receiving small nips to his lower lip. Rick stepped forward, closer, and moved a hand to slid fingers into Negan's hair. He scratched, ruffled the hair, for a moment, before he held the back of Negan's neck, pulling him closer and tasting tongue and raw desire. Rick pulled back, looking up at Negan, who matched his stare with heavy-lidded eyes. He gave Rick a smile, letting his fingers trace along his cheek. Negan dropped his hand and stepped back. "Not married, huh?"

"Not anymore." Rick followed Negan down the hall, Negan leading him into the bedroom with his backward walk. Out of the corner of his eye, they passed the bathroom, the cracked picture hanging in the hallway. "You're not."

Negan chuckled, a low, short one in his throat. "Such confidence in that voice. You have been snooping."

Rick crowded him against the bed. He slid off his shirt and let it drop on the floor. "It's my job."

"Fucking creepy." Negan lowered his hands and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He tossed it aside and dipped down, pressing his forehead to Rick's. "What else did you find?" he murmured.

Rick lifted an arm, wrapping around Negan's torso. He tipped his head to the side and kissed him, Negan already pliant and receptive against him. Rick raked his fingers down Negan's back, the man arching into his touch. He worked on his jeans, unbuttoning them and dragging the zipper down. Rick pulled back, turning to press kisses along Negan's jawline, the tip of his nose brushing against the rough stubble. "Why do you sleep on the sofa?" Rick asked, moving lower until he was mouthing at Negan's neck.

Negan pressed a hand to Rick's good shoulder, to his chest. He pushed, narrowing his eyes at Rick. "You sure you want to fucking open Pandora's box, Rick? I just want to put my cock in that cute ass of yours. We're not going to talk about our fucking feelings."

He swallowed, hands dropping from their place on Negan's waist. Rick watched Negan and slowly began to nod. "I know," he said, and he felt foolish. This was the man he had been watching, not the school teacher with a gentle gaze and endless patience, but the Savior who was rough around the edges with a silver tongue. "Yeah, I know."

"Good." Negan studied him. "Hop on the bed, Rick. Unless you want to roll around until I pin you again."

Rick, eyes never wavering from Negan's face, kicked off his shoes and undone his jeans. This was the man who, upon finding out he had a toddler, sent him nursey rhymes to scare him. Rick reached behind him and slipped out his gun. He crouched, setting it on the floor. "I think I want you to pin me."

Negan's reaction was immediate. He wrapped his arms around Rick's middle and spun him around, slamming him on to the bed and crawling after him. Negan paused, toeing off his own shoes, before he pressed right up against Rick, hips against hips. He kissed Rick, rough and just a bit desperate. Rick figured he should keep up the spirit, fight back a little, but it was hard to concentrate on anything else when Negan kissed him. His hands traveled down Rick's sides, fingers brushing against his hips until they were tugging down Rick's pants. Rick lifted his hips, helping with the slide and pull, and Negan did the same for Rick, moving side to side to aid with the undressing.

"Ever done this before, Rick?" Negan asked, pulling away from him and crawling to the edge. He dug in the nightstand, leaving Rick to stare at the ceiling and breathe.

"Care to be a bit more specific?" Rick asked, shutting his eyes.

Negan laughed. He went back to Rick, hovering above him. "Assplay."

Rick stared at him. "Yeah."

Negan raised his brows and glanced down, turning the lubricant over in his hands. He opened it, squeezing some onto his fingers. "You're full of surprises," Negan murmured and dipped his hand in between Rick's legs. He pressed his fingers to his hole and slowly pushed in one. Rick closed his eyes again, shifting his hips up and spreading his legs a little wider. Negan leaned in, face to Rick's neck. "Want me to stop? Just say so."

"Don't," Rick absently touched Negan's shoulder, thumb skimming along his collarbone. "Keep going."

"Yes, sir," Negan whispered and kept going.

Rick hadn't done anything like this in a while. To be fair, he hadn't had sex since Lori died, so he was lacking experience in all departments. Rick found people attractive, had thoughts of bedding a couple, but he never managed to take the incentive and engage. In general, Rick wasn't one for casual sex. This was an exception. One that Rick really wouldn't mind doing again.

He let out a groan once Negan's fingers left him, and he reached out, hands grabbing at Negan's waist when he pulled away. Negan swatted them away as he sat back on his heels. "Slow your roll, Rick," he said. "Let me put on this fucking glove." Negan ripped open the package with his teeth and pulled on the condom. He paused a moment more to apply more lubricant before he grabbed Rick's legs, dragging him over. "You always this eager to get laid?"

Rick wet his lips, a small smile forming. "Don't try and say you aren't," he said.

Negan grinned and shook his head. "Gimme that." Negan reached over, fingers wrapping around Rick's ankle, and he bent his leg, hoisting it on his shoulder. He shifted closer, glancing down to line up his cock before pressing in. Rick gasped and arched, Negan leaning in to bury his face in Rick's neck. He laughed, the vibration casting against Rick's skin. "Much better," he said and moved his hips.

Rick hooked his other leg around Negan's hip, his heel digging into his lower back. He slid both arms around his middle, leaning his head against Negan's. "Yeah," Rick breathed out. His shoulder was the last thing in his mind, and the dull ache in his leg didn't faze him. A man in his mid-thirties shouldn't be able to bend the way Rick was, but an ordinary man in his mid-thirties shouldn't be doing a load of stuff Rick was doing. He didn't care, not when Negan was doing such a good job at minimizing those nagging thoughts to a whisper.

They were quiet, and Rick didn't know why. Negan had no one else in the house, but maybe that was why he didn't feel the need to perform. Negan performed in every aspect of his life, it seemed, though not now. It wasn't necessary, Rick reasoned, when Negan was already outshining everyone else who he had slept with in his life.

Negan rocked against Rick, and he gave a little buck after every fourth thrust, which made Rick groan every time. It was systematic and deliberate, and Rick would even call it Negan's own form of torture. Do people get off on torture?

Rick felt the scrape of Negan's teeth along the brim of his ear. He squirmed against him, his leg slipping from Negan's shoulder. Negan touched Rick's knee and held onto his leg, his grip tight as he yanked Rick closer. "You gonna come for me, Rick?" He hummed as he took Rick's cock in hand, squeezing, moving his hand in time with his hips. "I'd like you to."

Rick wished he could do more, but what could he do, instead of moan and shudder and come. Negan laughed, a breathy, exasperated thing, as he leaned over Rick, palm still rubbing at his cock. "There we fucking go," he murmured, his own hips giving a last few thrusts before he was coming, too.

They hung in that tense limbo, too tired and spent to move out of their twisted cocoon. Rick swallowed and sucked in a breath, digging his elbows into the bed covers as he dragged himself away from Negan. At his movement, Negan lifted his head, giving Rick a look as he pulled away, too. "You're a goddamn mess," Negan said, sitting up, hand on the base of his cock so the condom wouldn't slide. "Lucky for you, I am also a fucking mess." Negan stood, taking off the condom and tying it off. He dropped it in the trash and reached over, tossing Rick the box of tissues. Negan glanced at him, licking at a spot on his thumb.

Rick leaned against the headboard, pulling out a few tissues and wiping up the spunk on his stomach. Negan switched on the lamp, making Rick narrow his eyes at the sudden light. He smashed the tissues in his hand and got off the bed, too, throwing them away. Rick set the tissues back where they were.

"So."

He looked over at Negan, eyes focusing on his face for only a moment, before they lowered. In the dark, he couldn't appreciate Negan in all his glory, but with the light on—

"Is that a fucking piercing?" Rick asked, reaching out and running his thumb over Negan's left nipple, the silver bar through it.

Negan wiggled his eyebrows, leaning in and smiling. "Hot, right?"

Rick laughed, and Negan did, too. He leaned in and kissed Rick, a hand poised underneath his chin. This was… different. There was no need, desire, or desperation on Negan's lips this time. It was soft, yearning, and patient, and everything Rick knew about Negan that he erased from his mind while they fucked. This was dangerous, wasn't it? Mere hours ago they fought on the floor, in this very room, for their lives, to be the one that walked out of the house. Even though that was in the past, the very near past, it was worth a moment of consideration. They couldn't kill each other, so they ended up in bed. Simple and not at all toeing the line of danger and pointless risk.

Rick slowly pulled away, keeping his eyes shut for just a moment more. He looked at Negan, pressing his lips together and lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head. "I gotta go."

Negan hung his arms at his sides. He shrugged. "Be my guest. I got what I wanted." He turned away from him, a rotation on his heels, and grabbed his boxers, stepping into them. Negan tipped his head to the side, not quite looking over his shoulder, but the intent was clear. "If you see Rusty out there, tell him to skedaddle."

"Rusty?" Rick repeated, taking a step back. He glanced around the floor and began to gather his clothes, pulling them on as he found them. "Isn't it bad to name strays?" Negan said nothing, only fell back against the bed. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and as Rick stood there, buttoning up his shirt, he stared at the wrinkled covers and wondered if that was the most action, of any kind, Negan's bed had seen in a while. Negan remained quiet as Rick moved through the room, grabbing his shoes and pulling them on, picked his gun from the floor, and went into the bathroom to get his coat. Rick lingered in the hallway as he fixed the sleeves, rolling his shoulders to test the pain he could endure. He felt the end of the tape begin to unstick, and Rick figured it was the sweat that made the adhesive wear away.

"Want me to walk you out? Hold your fucking hand and give your forehead a kiss?"

Rick left. He didn't see Rusty. Driving home, Rick felt like he was in purgatory.

* * *

Rick stepped inside and saw Carol at the kitchen table. She was reading a magazine, and Rick shut the door as quietly as he could, as if he was a teenager sneaking back in after leaving the house without permission. Rick walked into the kitchen, curling and uncurling his fingers. He stood by the table. "Hey."

Carol lifted her head, staring at Rick. "Well hi." She flipped a page, smiling. "Everything go okay?"

He set his hands on the back of a chair, leaning on it. "Do you have any tips to get blood out of clothing?" Rick shrugged his shoulder, wincing a tad. "I, uh, well."

She shut the magazine. "Soap and cold water. How long has it been?"

"A few hours."

"Toothpaste works, too. Scrub it in and let it dry, then use soap and water."

Rick scratched his nose. "Thanks, I'll try that."

Carol stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. She walked around the table. "Is that the only snag?"

He laughed. "Quite a few snags, actually. You know the Saviors, right?" At Carol's small nod, Rick continued. "Gregory gave me a shit job, things… happened, and now we're going to be working together. Or try to, at least." Rick patted her arm. "Ask Maggie. She knows what she's doing."

Carol studied him and nodded again. "Right." She pointed at him. "Shit job?"

Rick paused. "Negan."

Carol widened her eyes.

Rick nodded, head tipping side to side. "Yeah, I know. Look, thanks for watching Carl and Judith. I appreciate it." He set a hand on her back, leading her to the door. "I'll try the toothpaste."

"Did you kill him?"

"No."

"Gregory just told you to kill him?" Carol shook her head. "Asshole."

"Talk to Maggie, like I said." Rick opened up the door and gave Carol a smile. "Everything's fine."

The look Carol gave told him that she didn't agree with him in the slightest. "Goodnight, Rick."

"Goodnight." He shut the door and leaned his head against it, closing his eyes. Better men than Rick might not have lasted as long as he had. Getting shot and then fucked? He deserved a nice long nap.

 _How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?_

Rick heard Negan's voice in his ear, and that slight purr dragged him down the hall, let him check on his children, before coaxing him into bed. He didn't even bother undressing, just buried his face into the pillow and tried his best not to bare down too hard on his shoulder.

In the morning, Rick didn't know how he got out of bed. He heard Carl rummage in the kitchen, so he slid out of bed and promptly fell in the floor. Rick felt heavy, and he rolled on the floor, taking off his coat and kicking off his shoes. He lifted his arms above his head and stretched, stretched despite the numbing pain in his shoulder. It was manageable. He'd live.

Rick stashed his gun in a drawer and changed into another set of clothes, something that didn't have bullet holes and reminded him of a scruffy man in a red scarf. He went into the kitchen and smiled at Carl as he ate cereal at the table. Rick walked past him and squeezed his shoulder. "Sorry, I didn't get in until late." He started the coffee. "Was Carol okay?"

Carl stuffed his face with Cheerios. "Yeah, she was fine." Rick could feel Carl's eyes burning a hole in his back. "You must really like her."

Rick blinked. He looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"The rose girl."

He took a mug out of the cabinet. "You haven't read the messages, have you?"

"Ew, gross, no."

Rick smiled and set the cup down. He was lucky any thought of him dating grossed Carl out, and didn't create any hostility. But he wasn't dating. Negan had said he got what he wanted. Rick looked over at Carl, watching as he dropped a Cheerio, stared at it on the floor, and continued eating like nothing happened. Rick leaned against the counter. "Carl, what if the rose girl was… a rose… man?" Pointedly not a rose boy because Negan was definitely not a boy.

Carl looked at Rick, hand stuffed in the bowl of dry cereal. His expression showed no disgust, no shock, no repulsion. It was just Carl. "Then it's a rose man?" He furrowed his brow. "It's cool, Dad. Some of my friends are… you know."

"Thanks, Carl."

"No problem."

Rick pushed off from the counter and went to wake up Judith.

After their morning routine, Rick drove Carl to school. When he got back home, he sat Judith down in front of the television while he showered. Rick was hesitant to undress the injury, but he knew it would be best if it got a bit of air. Or whatever. He avoided getting water directly in it, which was pretty damn hard when it was on his shoulder.

Rick spent the day lounging in the living room with Judith. He deserved to rest, and Judith didn't seem to mind when he dozed off and took a couple naps. Small victories.

As it neared three, Rick gathered Judith and went to pick up Carl. He opened the front door, Judith to his chest, and looked down. On the welcome mat, there was another rose with a small black box next to it. Rick stared at it, absently patting Judith's back. He thought this would be over. Negan's parting words gave off that feeling. Rick shifted Judith and managed to hold her with one arm, as he crouched to pick up the rose and the box. He shut the door with his foot and set Judith on the couch, sitting next to her. "What do you think this is?" he asked Judith. She clapped. Rick furrowed his brow. "Yeah, I think so, too."

The rose didn't have a card, like the previous ones. The small velvet box, however, was a different story. Rick rubbed his thumb against the side of the box, anticipation eating at him. He held the box in his palm and carefully opened it. On the inside lid was a note. _You left this behind, killer._

In the center of the box was a bullet. It was clean and shiny, and Rick imagined Negan getting on his hands and knees, searching his bedroom for the bullet that pierced Rick's skin.

What sort of fucked up symbolism was that?

Rick snapped the box shut and looked down at Judith. "What do you think it means?" he said. Judith scrunched up her face and shook her head. Rick stroked her hair, leaving her on the couch to put the rose with his growing and dying collection and the bullet in his nightstand.

As if nothing had stopped him, Rick drove to pick up Carl, now aware that he had received a dozen roses from Negan. And they say romance is dead.

* * *

Rick hadn't been to work in a week. He was busy with being… not very busy that he forgot to check in with the Hilltop. With the silence, Rick figured Maggie was handling everything well. No news was good news. All was quiet on the Negan front, too, not that Rick was expecting something to happen. It was in the past now, a notch in Rick's belt and a scar on his shoulder.

Despite reminding himself this, Rick couldn't help his mind retreating to dark and dangerous places when he laid awake at night. The scrape of teeth, the laughter, those hips against his. Completely rational and normal thoughts to have.

His phone rang from the other end of the couch. Rick glanced at the phone, balanced on the edge, and narrowed his eyes. He pushed himself up and snatched it as it rang a fourth time. Maggie's name was at the top of the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rick. I thought I'd call to check on you."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Resting, like you said."

"It's just that… you haven't stopped by in a few days, and I was getting worried."

"No, everything's fine. I'm doing well. Thank you for calling."

"Good." A pause. Maggie laughed. "This isn't the only reason I called."

Rick frowned. "What's going on? Is it the Saviors? Did something happen?"

"No, no, nothing like that. They've been doing fine, actually. Surprised me. It's just, well, today we're short on Hilltop members, and there's a Savior here that needs a partner."

"Do you need me to come in?"

"Would you do that, Rick? I'd appreciate it. I don't know if you need any more time off—"

"—I can come in, don't worry." Rick rubbed his face and glanced at the clock on the wall. "I don't have anyone to watch Judith, though, and Carl's in school."

"You can bring her with you. I can watch her. Or Glenn can. He's not doing anything." On the other end, Rick heard a cry of protest, but he couldn't pick out the specifics. Maggie shushed. "Yeah, just bring Judith with you. Glenn said he didn't care." More background yelling started, and Maggie talked a bit louder. "I'll see you in a bit!"

Rick tossed his phone aside and stretched out his legs. It seemed like he was going to get back to work. He had a well-deserved break. It was worth it. Rick stood up and walked down the hall, peeking on Judith who was playing with a stuffed elephant. He went around her room, collecting the necessities and putting them in her bag. Judith wouldn't be around any of the actual work, and she wasn't old enough to understand what they were talking about yet. She should be safe with Glenn and Maggie once there.

He didn't have any experience in working with someone else on this job. Being an officer, it was a given that work would be done with a partner, but killing people? He was apprehensive, but this was part of their deal. A pair could watch each other's backs. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

Glenn could try to appear disinterested and appalled at the idea of watching Judith as much as he wanted, but Rick saw that look in his eyes when Judith tried to say his name. He left him with Judith's bag and went to find Maggie. She was in Gregory's office, sitting behind the desk like she belonged there. Rick walked in, laughing. "Management suits you," he said.

Maggie gave him a look, fighting back the urge to smile. "Gregory's still the leader. He's just… pouting in his bedroom, like the coward and child he is." She grinned. "How's Judith, or should I ask how Glenn is?"

"She's fine. They're both fine." Rick laughed again. "Might want to give him a kid soon. Should have seen his face."

Maggie shook her head. "Lord, no. Give me a few years." She stood from the chair and crossed her arms. "Rick," she said, voice lower. "I feel I should warn you. The person you're paired with. I tried to get you out of it, but they were dead set on you being with them."

Rick set his hands on his hips, knitting his brows. "Why do I get the feeling I know who you're talking about?"

She gave a weak smile. "Irony?"

The office door opened, and Negan walked in, face instantly lighting up once he saw Rick. "Lookie here! You managed to get him." Negan moved over to them, standing next to Rick and grinning at Maggie. "I owe you one."

"That's not necessary."

Rick breathed in, smelling cologne and hearing Negan laugh. He looked at him. "Shouldn't you be at work? School's still in."

Negan quirked a brow and tipped his head to the side. "I called in sick. And I was sick. You should have heard me this morning. Couldn't talk worth a damn." He winked at Rick, like he was in on a joke. "Besides, I should really get back to the swing of things, and since we have a fucking buddy system, I knew I wanted to partner with Rickroll here." Negan pressed a hand to Rick's back, giving him a pat. His touch lingered, a soft rub to the curve of his back, and then it was gone.

"I suppose I'm flattered."

"Oh, you fucking better be."

Maggie cleared her throat and looked down, digging out the same ratty notebook. "The man's name is Gareth. Gregory said he's evaded police for months and needs to be brought to justice." Maggie showed the notebook to Negan and Rick. "I don't know if you've kept up with the news, but a couple people have disappeared. No trace of them. Gregory had people out, and they all turned out with the same result. Gareth kidnapped them, and… well, they can't find the bodies."

Negan let out a laugh, a single huff. "What'd he do? Eat them?"

Maggie shut the notebook. "That's what we're thinking."

Negan lost his smile, shoulders dropping. "Well, shit."

"I don't know how long this is going to take you guys, but be careful. It's been a while since the last disappearance."

Rick frowned. "He might strike again. Soon."

Maggie nodded. "That's what we're afraid of. The police aren't doing anything. They don't know, but we do." She studied both of them, eyes narrowing. "Is this arrangement going to work?"

"Yes."

"Hell yeah."

Maggie didn't look convinced. "If something goes wrong, call me. Call someone here. You can get help. Is that clear? No running off into the sunset if you screw up. If you screw up, own it, and get help. Understand?"

Rick nodded. Beside him, Negan whistled. "Damn, Gregory won't like that."

Maggie shot him a look. "Gregory isn't going to find out. I trust you guys, well, I trust that you know how to do your job." She pressed her lips together. "Now go. Get that asshole before he does anything else."

Again, Rick nodded and walked out of the office. Gareth, Gareth, Gareth. Fucking guy was a cannibal? Negan walked beside him, shoulder bumping into his. "This should be good, huh? What do you say, Rick? Looking forward to wasting this fucked up motherfucker?"

Rick held open the door for Negan, standing up straight as he waited. Negan passed him, eyes meeting his, a smile on his lips. "For once, I think I am."

"For once, Ricky boy? Are you telling me you weren't looking forward to killing me?" Negan tutted. "Just showed your hand, Rick. It's dangerous to reveal too much."

"And sending me that bullet wasn't too much?" Rick followed Negan, hearing the door shut behind him.

Negan shrugged, lifting his hands. "I told you. You left it behind. I was just being a good citizen and returning it." He clapped, hands rubbing together. "Let's take my car."

* * *

Rick hated finding out the police were doing an awful job. When he was on the force, he tried to do the right things, bring attention to neglected issues, and overall, not contribute to the bad reputation cops had. He knew some of the criticisms were necessary—hell, he agreed with some of it—but it still made his skin crawl finding out that the police could have done something, and they didn't.

Like Gareth. Rick couldn't help but wonder, if he still had his job, would those missing persons reports come across his desk, and would he have done all he could to find justice? Rick hoped he would have. He was in a different universe now, one where Gareth was going to get what he deserved.

"I usually take a couple days to research the contract, but what Maggie told us was enough," Rick said, shifting, wrapping his fingers around the seatbelt. "Let's kill this guy. Hell, the Hilltop knows where he is, the police doesn't, so we should get him before he runs or grabs another person."

In the driver's seat, Negan laughed. "He speaks." He glanced at Rick, one hand on the steering wheel, the other propping up his head. "For a moment, I thought you fell asleep with your eyes open." Negan rubbed his fingers against his chin, his lips. "You didn't spend just a couple days researching me. Should I be flattered?"

Rick pursed his lips and looked out of the window. "That's in the past."

Negan snorted. "Oh, okay." He dropped his hand, sitting up straighter. "You were a cop, right?"

He paused, frowning. Rick turned back to Negan. "How did you know that?"

"I did some research of my own," Negan said with a smirk. He waved a hand, pointing a finger. "There's a story to be told, one that I keep putting off."

Rick looked down at the floor, stretching out his legs. Negan's car was clean and taken care of. It wasn't neglected, like his house and bedroom appeared to be. "Is it the same story you were going to tell me before?"

"What."

"You told me you shot what you wanted to shoot. Like it was on purpose." Rick looked at him from the corner of his eye, but Negan wasn't giving anything away. "I don't think you're telling me the whole story."

Negan narrowed his eyes for a split second and scooted to the edge of his seat, driving with both hands on the wheel. "Fucker isn't home. We gonna wait in his house?"

Rick was about to ask what could he possibly be doing, but he remembered it was a weekday afternoon. The guy could be working or doing errands. Anything in the world. Rick stared at the house, hoping that the no car out front actually meant he wasn't home. He'd been fooled once. Rick nodded, looking over at Negan. "Yeah, sounds good." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Find some place to park. Somewhere inconspicuous."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Rick. I know what to do." Negan parked in front of a nearby grocery store, and they both gathered their things before sliding out of the car. The shop was a twenty-four hour one, so the lot was always occupied by something. Rick didn't think they'd be in the house for that long, but he didn't know where Gareth was or when he'd be back.

They walked down the street, heading to Gareth's house. Rick had his gun pressed to his back, tucked safely in the waistband of his pants. Negan had his leather jacket zipped up, and even though Rick saw him tuck his own gun behind him, he couldn't tell it was there. That was the point, though. They were quiet as they walked, Rick with his hands in his coat pockets and Negan moving as if he had no posture at all. He hoped they didn't look suspicious.

"Carl ask about that?" Negan asked. Rick turned his head, catching Negan's eye, and then looking down at his shoulder. Rick had managed to get the blood out of the material, but there wasn't much he could do about the hole. Rick was never good at sewing or patching clothes. He shook his head. Negan smiled. "Good. Probably didn't notice it, then."

"Yeah. Good." Rick went to the front door, Negan hovering behind him. The man was almost like his own shield as he picked the lock.

"What does he think you do all day?" Negan said, leaning down enough for his lips to touch Rick's ear.

The pick jammed in the lock. Rick frowned and cleared his throat, glancing at Negan. "Watch Judith. I'm a single dad, as far as he's concerned." Rick took a breath and started over. "That's all he'll know."

"I don't blame you," Negan continued, voice still low and close to him. Rick could feel his breath on his neck, could still smell the damn cologne. "Fucked up, isn't it? Finding out Daddy's a hitman." Negan slipped an arm around Rick, his hand pressing to his stomach.

When the lock gave that click, Rick sighed. He looked over his shoulder, finding out just how close Negan was. Rick stared at him, swallowing. "Listen here. We're working. No… funny business." Rick frowned as Negan smiled. "I don't even know why you're doing this." He pushed at Negan and opened the front door. Rick stepped inside, pick going back in his pocket before he took out his gun.

"Doing what, Rick?" Negan shut the door. "Care to elaborate?"

Gareth's house was neat and orderly. There was no blanket strewn on his couch. Rick held his gun steady as he moved through the halls, peeking in each room.

"The teasing. We've fucked. You got what you wanted, you said." Rick glanced behind him, seeing Negan in the kitchen. He had one hand on his gun, the other on the refrigerator handle. Negan stood there, staring into the fridge. "What?" Rick lowered his gun. "Something in there?"

Negan crouched, sticking his head in. "Meat. Don't know what kind." Negan shook his head. "Could be a fucking human. How the hell should I know?" Negan shut the door and turned away. He went down the hall, toward Rick. "It wasn't in those fucking packages you get at the deli."

"Might be leftovers from…"

"From the fucking people he ate? Yeah, fucking might be." Negan stopped next to him. He sighed. "I know I couldn't eat an entire person by myself." Negan furrowed his brow. "Think he has some fucking cannibal friends? Like, do you think he knows goddamn Hannibal Lecter?"

Rick narrowed his eyes and walked away.

"I'm being fucking serious. I just wanna ask him a few questions."

Rick stepped into the bedroom, doing a quick look through. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was messy, the bed unmade, clothes on the floor. Rick stood by the window, peering through the cracked blinds. "Could be a while," Rick murmured.

Negan opened up the closet door. He looked in, nodding. "This guy has shitty taste. Looks like he could work at a fucking Whole Foods."

Rick crouched, getting himself comfortable as he leaned against the wall. He glanced Negan's way as he dug his phone out of his pocket. Just to be sure, Rick did a quick Google search on Gareth. Like Maggie said, he had been in the news, been brought in for questioning about the missing people. The police had to let him go when there was nothing substantial keeping him there. The Hilltop found the link, and Rick knew it wasn't through legal means. Did it matter, though, when an asshole was going to get what was due?

He stuck his phone back in his pocket, looking at Negan, who was still standing in awe of the closet. "I'm going to be straight up with you," Rick said.

"No, Rick, don't be straight with me." Negan shut the door and spun around.

"I found you on Facebook. You hadn't been on it for years, but you had an Instagram account linked to it. So, when you posted a new picture, it'd pop up on your feed." Rick scratched the back of his neck. "I sort of… regularly checked your page."

Negan leaned against the wall, arms over his chest. He grinned. "Shit, Rick. That is creepy as hell."

"Shut up."

"Man, you really got it bad for me, huh?"

Rick rubbed his face, shaking his head. He dropped his hands, looking across the room at Negan. "What's your excuse? Wanting to jump into bed with me as soon as we didn't have guns to each other's heads? You followed me around, too. You sent me those roses. Those fucking notes. Sounds like you got it bad for me."

"Can it be both?" Negan raised a brow. "Look, Rick, I like you. You're fucking cute from far away."

"And you got all that from following me? You felt all that, and you were still going to kill me?"

Negan was quiet for a moment. "You pulled your gun on me first."

"I didn't shoot first. I hesitated when I saw your gun." Rick wet his lips. "That's it, then, isn't it? You really did miss on purpose."

More silence. Rick watched Negan as he bowed his head, hands and gun to his face. Negan dropped his hands and crouched, too, sliding down the wall. "You're really gonna make me fucking do this."

"Do what?"

"Fucking talk while we wait for this asshole."

Rick shrugged.

Negan groaned. "Fine, shit." He rolled his shoulders, grimacing. "I didn't… miss on purpose. I fucking missed. I had been watching you but I never got a clear view of your fucking face. I was sending you all that shit because I wanted to get under your skin. I was pissed at Gregory. That dick was sending someone to kill me, but I wasn't going to sit fucking idle. So, I wanted to torment you. I thought I'd scare you off, and Gregory would confront me and give me a better fucking deal. I had no idea you were going to show up in my fucking house and still try to kill me.

"And then I saw your face, and I knew you." Negan shut his eyes and shook his head. "I knew you, Rick, and I got scared and fucking missed the shot."

Rick studied Negan, taking in the slouch of his shoulders, the loose grip on the gun, the lines around his mouth, and knew Negan was being truthful. He pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow. Rick gave his head the smallest of shakes. "How?" he asked quietly. "How did you know me? I didn't know you at all."

At that, Negan laughed, a weak sound that didn't suit him at all. "I'd be surprised if you did. You were too doped up when we met." Negan turned his head, then, looking at Rick. He pointed. "It was about five years ago. You were in the fucking hospital. I was there, too."

Had it really been five years? So much in his life had changed. Rick nodded. "Yeah, I was in a coma. I got shot when I was working."

"You weren't in a coma when I fucking walked in. Like I said, though, you were pretty doped up. Damn lousy at holding a conversation."

Rick smiled softly. "Why were you there?"

"I told you, or I was starting to. Don't you remember?"

The whole hospital experience was a blur to him. Even if he hadn't been in a coma and hooked up to pain medication, it was five years ago. Rick shook his head. "I don't."

"My wife. Lucille. The woman in that fucking picture." Negan gestured to the hallway, as if forgetting they weren't in his house and instead in a stranger's. "She was dying of fucking cancer. I stepped out for a bit to get some air, as you do, and I saw you. You were in a fucking dark room, looking pitiful as all hell. I don't know. I was in that hospital for weeks, and I kept hearing the fucking nurses and doctors talk about you. I guess I was curious."

"I was a sideshow attraction. I get it."

"Fuck you, Rick. That's not what I was getting at." Negan tipped his head back. "I sat there with you, in the dark room, and talked. Like I said, you were shit at holding a conversation." He looked over. "It wasn't a long conversation. You, well, you fucking. Shit. I thought you fucking died. Your heart stopped." Negan frowned. "I got the nurses and fucking stayed in the back of the room, and fucking… watched as they shocked you again and again, and I couldn't… I didn't know you, but no one was fucking pushing me out, so, I." Negan lifted a hand, covering his face. He stopped talking, and Rick kept quiet, watching Negan from his spot. In the pause, in the silence of the room, Rick listened to Negan as he cried.

It was strange hearing Negan tell him about something he had no memory of. He didn't know his heart stopped even after he woke from the coma and was teetering on consciousness. But then again, Rick didn't expect Lori to tell him that either.

Rick stood up, walking across the room, around the bed. "Negan."

Negan waved him away, but that didn't stop him. Rick knelt in front of Negan and grabbed his hand. Negan cleared his throat and looked at Rick, dead on, tears down his face. "I left before I knew what happened to you. A part of me didn't want to know. I was already in a shitty place." Negan squeezed Rick's hand. "Two days later, Lucille died." He closed his eyes. "I didn't know what to fucking do. She was my whole world. I was a fucking awful husband, sure, but I loved her."

Rick leaned over, wiping at Negan's face. "My wife, Lori, died a year or so after I woke from my coma. Car accident."

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it? Being a widower?"

He pulled back, setting his hands on Negan's knees. Rick squeezed. "Yeah."

Negan dropped a hand, grabbing one of Rick's. "Ever tried to kill yourself?"

"I couldn't do that to Carl and Judith."

"I was fucking alone. No one needed me." Negan stared at Rick. "I tried once. I didn't try very hard. Fucking freaked out and realized what I done when I was bleeding all over the place." He gave a small smile. "Left some bitching scars, though."

Rick hummed. "Small things."

"Damn right."

They fell into a shared silence, holding hands and pointedly not looking at each other. This was a different side to the Negan he saw a week ago, but it seemed to fit nicely with what he had come to know. Negan squeezed Rick's fingers, and Rick looked at him. "I thought you were dead. That night, when I finally got a good look at your face, I thought I was staring at a fucking ghost."

Rick shook his head. "I'm not."

"No shit."

"When I saw you, that… first time I saw you. You were on your porch, playing with that cat. I had a feeling, I, I thought you seemed familiar, but that would have been ridiculous."

Negan stared at him, no more tears in his eyes. He nodded, a hint of a smile forming. "That is ridiculous. I don't fucking play with that cat." Rick looked at him, narrowing his eyes. "That cat comes over and plays with me." Rick smacked Negan's arm, pulling back and standing up. "And his name is Rusty, thank you very much."

Rick took a step back, hand to his mouth. "You're not supposed to name strays."

"Fuck you, Rick. You look at a fucking orange cat and not name it Rusty."

The front door opened. They froze, turning their heads to the doorway.

Slowly, Negan stood up, getting next to Rick. "I'll get behind the door," he whispered. He slipped out his gun and took a step back, giving Rick one last lingering look before ducking behind the door. Rick walked backward until he hit the dresser. He held up his gun, eyes narrowed as he waited.

Rick listened as the front door was closed, keys were set down, and footsteps went through the house. As they got closer, Rick adjusted his position, shoulders back.

A man walked in, mid-twenties, it looked like, and with all the air of arrogance around him. The clothes he wore matched the ones Negan made fun of in the closet. He didn't look like he had the appetite for human flesh, but looks could be deceiving.

Negan kicked the door, making it swing on its hinges until it slammed shut. Gareth jumped, looking Negan's way. He held up his hands at the sight of the gun. "Whoa, man. What's going on?"

Rick stepped forward. "Turn around." Gareth didn't hesitate, spinning on his heel and giving Rick his attention. He gestured with his gun. "On your knees." Gareth narrowed his eyes and carefully crouched, hands still up. Rick glanced at Negan, then back down. "You Gareth?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Rick threw his arm out, striking him across the face with his gun. Gareth fell on his side, hands cradling his cheek. "What the fuck?!"

"Nice fucking hit," Negan said.

"Pull him back up."

Negan reached down with his free hand and yanked on Gareth's hair, dragging him back on his knees. He went around him, moving next to Rick. "We heard you got a weird-ass fucking appetite, Gareth."

Gareth paled, eyes widening. He dropped his hands, resting them on his knees. "I don't know what you're talking about. Are you with the cops?"

"Put your fucking hands up. We didn't tell you to fucking lower them." Negan brandished the gun, Gareth immediately lifting his hands. Negan grinned, let out a little laugh, and looked over at Rick.

Rick tried to ignore him. He tightened his grip on the gun. "It doesn't matter who we're with. What matters is that you kidnapped people, killed them, and then fucking ate them." He wrinkled his nose. "That's vile."

"You don't even need to fucking eat people. You have good food in that fridge, like? Why do you have to fucking gnaw on some poor bastard's leg?" Negan waved his gun as he talked.

Gareth hesitated, fingers twitching. He tipped his head to the side. "A man's gotta eat."

"Hoo, buddy!" Negan laughed.

Rick nudged him. He looked back at Gareth. "No, you didn't have to eat _them_. Don't you feel any remorse for your actions? The slightest bit disgusted?"

There was no hesitation in Gareth's actions. "Not at all. In fact, I'd do it—"

Two bullets shot through Gareth, one in his forehead, the other in his throat. Gareth immediately flew back, collapsing on the floor with a sickening thud.

Rick lowered his gun, brow furrowed. He looked over at Negan, who gracelessly dropped his arm. Negan leaned back, staring at Rick with a smile. He wet his lips. "Fuck, Rick. My dick is so fucking hard right now."

"Why did you fucking do that?" Rick pointed at Gareth.

Negan set his hands on his hips, giving Rick an incredulous look. "I should be asking you the same question, _Rick_! That was extremely rude. Shooting him while he was in the middle of a sentence." Negan shook his head, tutting.

"You did the same thing!"

"I didn't know we had a fucking killing strategy! I just pop these fuckers wherever'll kill them faster." Negan stuffed his gun behind him. "Besides, he was pissing me off. I didn't want to fucking hear his punk-ass voice any longer than I fucking had to."

"He was pissing me off, too," Rick said quietly, slipping his gun behind him, too. "I usually… do the execution thing. Right in the forehead. So, when the body's found, people know that they were in deep shit." Rick rubbed his face, scratching his neck. He looked over at Negan. "What's that look for?"

Negan grinned at Rick, teeth showing. He bent his knees, giving a little hip thrust. "Execution style. That is some messed up shit, Rick. Holy hell." He wet his lips, turning toward Rick. "Have I mentioned how fucking _turned on_ I am?"

Rick studied Negan, finding himself scanning him from his head to his toes and lingering somewhere in the middle. He looked back at him, smiling. "I don't remember, maybe." Rick shrugged. "Sounds familiar."

"We make a good fucking team, Rick."

"Only one of us was supposed to kill Gareth."

"Who the hell said that? He's fucking dead. Who cares how that happened?" Negan stepped forward, standing in front of Rick. He looked down at him, still smiling. "How about we get the fuck outta here?" he asked, voice lowering.

Rick felt his heart race, just at the mere implication, and he roughly swallowed. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, even though he knew damn well what Negan had in mind.

Negan chuckled, a low, rugged thing. "A little freaky deaky," he said, eyebrows raising as he shimmied his shoulders.

He wanted to roll his eyes, God did he want to, and Rick's first instincts were usually good, so he did. Negan laughed again, and Rick smiled. "Freaky deaky? When I was growing up, we called it hanky panky."

"That is so fucking stupid, Rick," Negan said, though he didn't look annoyed in the slightest. He had that gleam in his eye, as if Rick gave him some fodder his intrusive thoughts hadn't. "Your place."

"No, Carl might come back. You're supposed to be sick."

"Fair enough. My place."

"Your place," Rick agreed. He took a step back, fingers flexing. "Why do you sleep on the sofa?"

Negan stared at Rick, head cocked and eyes narrowed. "Pandora's box, Rick."

"I want to open it."

At that, Negan grimaced but nodded. "I haven't been able to get a good night's sleep in my bed for years, ever since. Well, fuck, you know."

"I know." Rick nodded, too. "I haven't either since."

Negan moved toward him. "I know." He rolled his shoulders, hands on his hips. "All this death and fucking despair is making me hot and bothered. Kiss me, Rick."

"Yeah, okay," Rick said and reached up, grabbing the back of Negan's neck. He pulled him in, their mouths mashing together in the least romantic way, but it was rough and needy, and that was enough. His other hand touched Negan's waist, fingers digging into the leather material of his jacket. Negan stood there, managing to maintain his posture for a few seconds, until he buckled under the pressure. His fingers ran through Rick's hair, tangling in the loose waves. Negan tugged until Rick gasped, and he responded with a gasp of his own, an even needier thing that made Rick's knees weak.

Rick pulled away from Negan, hand to his chest, and cleared his throat. "We should go. Gareth might have friends or something." He lowered his hand, Negan stepped forward, and Rick put his hand up again. "Also, we should tell Maggie the job's done."

Negan started to nod, glancing around Rick and staring at Gareth, still in a crumpled heap on the floor. He ran his hands down the front of his pants. "I'll call the head honcho."

"Gregory's the head honcho."

Negan shot Rick a look and walked around him, heading out of the room and into the hall. Rick gave Gareth one last look, wrinkled his nose, and followed Negan out of the house. Rick made sure the door was locked behind them.

"Howdy there, darling." Negan paused, frowning. "I apologize." Rick smiled as he walked ahead of Negan, down the sidewalk. "The meat's fucking cooked. Rick and I are exce-fucking-llent chefs."

* * *

Rick pushed Negan toward the bed, and Negan's legs hit the frame, and he promptly fell back. Negan bounced and looked at Rick, smile never leaving his face. "I'm so fucking glad to see your shoulder's all better." Rick climbed onto the bed, on Negan's hips, and perched. He looked down at him.

"Yeah?" Rick dipped down, kissing Negan, rough, quick, wet. He pulled back. "I guess being a ghost pays off."

Negan kneed Rick in the side, tossing him off. He rolled, pinning Rick beneath him. "Shut that fucking mouth." Negan pressed close, one of Rick's legs bending at an awkward angle.

Rick reached up, arms wrapping around Negan's neck. He pulled him down, kissing him. Rick managed to move, legs spreading and allowing Negan to settle in the provided space. He hooked his legs over Negan's hips, squeezing him with all his strength. Negan groaned against his tongue, and Rick slid his hands down his sides. He pulled back, just a breath away, and smiled. "Take off that damn jacket."

"Take off _your_ jacket," Negan retorted, pulling back and standing next to the bed. He kept his eyes on Rick as he slid off his jacket, letting it drop on the floor. Rick sat up and stayed on the edge of the bed, shrugging out of his own coat and tossing it aside. Their shirts joined them on the floor, and Rick kicked off his shoes, Negan hopping leg to leg as he pulled off his boots.

Rick unbuttoned Negan's pants, dragging the zipper down. He stood for a moment, enough to give Negan a quick kiss, before leaning in, lips to his chest, his sternum. Rick licked at one of Negan's nipples before focusing his attention on the other, the one with the ring. It was cold against Rick's tongue, but he kept on, gently tugging at it with his teeth.

"Fuck. That's fucking hot, Rick."

He pulled back, grinning up at Negan. "Good." Rick wrapped his arms around his middle, took a deep breath, and whipped him around. Negan fell against the bed, bounced once, and Rick turned, flipping Negan on his stomach. Rick grabbed one of Negan's arms, fingers digging into his skin, as he pinned Negan in place. He shifted closer, hips pressing to Negan's backside. Rick leaned in, face to his neck. "Gotcha."

Negan buried his face in the bed covers and wiggled his hips, pushing back into Rick's hold. He turned his head, cheek to the bed. "Fuck yeah, you did." Negan laughed, breathless. "Goddamn, Rick. Fuck me. Like this. Fuck me like this. Daddy fucking wants it like this."

Rick loosened his grip on Negan's arm. "Daddy?"

"I'm Daddy," Negan murmured.

"Okay."

"Just to be clear."

Rick raked his nails down Negan's back as he pulled away. "You didn't have to clear up anything." He yanked on Negan's pants, tugging them down.

Negan was _loud_. He was loud as Rick kissed him, as Rick ate him out, as Rick fingered him, and as Rick pressed his face into the pillows as he fucked him. But this was good, God help him it was good. He kept his hands on Negan's waist as he thrust against him, the headboard smacking against the wall with each rock.

"Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop, Rick." Negan reached behind him, grabbing one of Rick's wrists. He squeezed, then dragged his fingers down, sliding them in the spaces in between Rick's. Negan hung his head, grinding against him. "Make me fucking come, Rick."

They laid next to each other, side by side, after the fact. Negan lit a cigarette, and Rick watched as smoke circled up to the ceiling. Negan passed it over, their knuckles brushing. Rick held the cigarette between his lips. "You like to hold hands, Negan?" Rick asked.

"Give me that fucking cigarette," Negan said, taking it from Rick. He glared at the ceiling.

Rick smiled, shaking his head. "Don't be like that," he said softly. Rick reached over, pressing his palm against Negan's, fingers sliding in between. He looked at Negan as he squeezed his hand. Negan stared back at him, his expression unreadable, eyes shiny.

Negan cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling again. "You're something else, Rick Grimes."

* * *

Maggie smiled at Rick, Judith in her arms and bag over her shoulder. "She was an angel." Rick took the bag first and then held Judith close. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Where's Glenn?"

"Napping." Maggie gave a playful roll of her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Negan called. He said everything went okay. Is that true?"

Rick rubbed Judith's back. He nodded. "It is. He wasn't lying." Rick shrugged. "We… really do work well together."

Maggie raised a brow. "Care to share anything?" she asked.

Sometimes, Rick didn't like how Maggie could look right through him. Still, he smiled and shook his head. "No, not right now. Maybe later." Rick turned away, heading toward the door.

"I'm holding you to that!" Maggie called after him.

* * *

Negan stood in front of Rick's dresser. He stretched out a hand, scooping up the rose petals and crushing them in his palm. "You haven't thrown them away."

"For some reason, I couldn't." Rick sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have… well." He kicked the nightstand.

The rose petals fell back on the dresser, and Negan crouched, opening up the drawer of the nightstand and digging through it. He picked up the notes, flipping through each of them. Negan glanced at the box in the corner. "You have everything."

"Yeah."

Negan dropped them back in the drawer. He shut it and stood up. "I gotta fuck you."

Rick laid back against the covers. "Say please."

"Please, I gotta fuck you," Negan said, crawling onto the bed and kissing Rick, fingers already twisting and curling to unbutton his shirt.

* * *

Carl came home from school, hitching a ride with one of his friends, and walked into the living room. He stood in front of Rick, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. "Why didn't you tell me Negan was the rose man?"

Rick, arm behind his head, remote in his hand, stared at Carl. He squinted. "I… didn't know how serious it was."

"I remember all the roses, Dad. It seemed pretty serious."

"How did you—"

"Negan told me. He tutors me during lunch, remember?" Carl sat down in the recliner, backpack dropping on the floor. "He was asking about you and Judith like he, like he _cared_."

Rick sat up, leaning forward as he watched Carl. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he said. He rubbed his hands together, the knuckles. "Is this going to be a problem?"

Carl looked ahead, eyes focused on something Rick couldn't see. "I mean, Negan's a jerk, but he's cool. I guess."

"That means a lot, Carl, thanks."

* * *

A month passed without incident. The Hilltop and the Saviors became equal partners, merged successfully like the Kingdom had. Unfortunately, Gregory regained most of the control, and Maggie was shoved down to grunt work, like the rest of them.

"Damn tragedy," Negan said, standing in Rick's kitchen, stirring a pot of spaghetti. "I really liked her."

"Did something happen to Maggie?" Carl asked, sliding next to Negan. He eyed the tray of garlic bread.

Rick looked at the two of them from his seat at the table, helping Judith in her chair. "Maggie's fine. Negan just likes being dramatic."

"I already knew that."

Negan narrowed his eyes at Carl and looked over his shoulder at Rick. "Do you all want fucking dinner or not?" He turned back to Carl. "And I see you fucking eyeing that garlic bread. Stand down." He shook his head. "Fucking vultures."

Negan was quiet for a moment, stirring. Carl gave Rick a look before sitting down at the table. Negan looked back at Rick, eyes still narrowed and lips pressed together. "Rick! You haven't kissed the cook yet." He grinned, tongue in between his teeth.

Rick heard Carl's groan as he walked over and kissed Negan.

That night, coming down from a post-orgasm high, Negan mouthed against Rick's stomach. "I like it here."

He cradled Negan's head, scratching behind his ears. "Then stay."

* * *

"I don't know about this. Are you sure he'll be okay?" Rick looked over, watching Negan, Rusty in his arms. "Me and him have fucking been through a lot. He's fucking seen me cry."

"I've seen you cry." Rick knocked on the door. "Beth's nice. She cares. Rusty will like her."

Negan frowned and looked at Rusty. He leaned in, lips to the side of his face. "She know what her big sis does?"

"Uh, no."

The door opened, and Beth poked her head out. She glanced between Rick and Negan. "Hey, Rick." Beth let go of the doorknob. "Um…"

Negan nodded his head back. "Negan."

Beth smiled. "Negan." She studied him and then looked over, widening her eyes at the cat in his arms. "Who's this?" She stepped on the porch and approached him, stretching out a hand to scratch under Rusty's chin.

Negan adjusted his grip on Rusty, glancing at Rick, at Beth, and cleared his throat. "This is Rusty. Would you… like to hold him?"

Beth pulled back her hand. "Can I?"

"Yeah. He fucking loves being held." Negan handed Rusty over, the cat letting out a small meow once he settled in Beth's arms. Beth smiled and scratched at his chest.

"He's a cutie."

Rick ran a hand through his hair. "Would you like to keep him?" he asked, sensing Negan's hesitation. Rick nudged him.

Negan sighed. "Yeah, wanna have him? Like as a fucking pet. I'm moving, and he's a stray that hangs around my house. I feed him and shit, and I don't want him to fucking starve when I'm gone."

Rusty nuzzled at Beth's face, and Rick could see the heartbreak in Negan's eyes. Negan composed himself, arms crossed over his chest. Beth grinned. "Yeah, yeah, I can take him. Thanks."

"Cool." Negan gave Rusty one last look, pointed at him, and walked off the porch.

Rick frowned at Negan and shook his head. He wet his lips and looked back at Beth. "Hey, I'm thinking about having a little get-together in a couple days. Friends, neighbors, whatever. Negan and I are cooking out. Would you like to come?"

Beth rocked Rusty in her arms. "I'd love to."

* * *

"Rick! So nice of you to come!" Gregory stepped aside, letting Rick inside the office. Rick narrowed his eyes at Gregory, but walked in all the same.

"I didn't think I had a choice." Rick glanced at Maggie, who was sitting in front of the desk, beside Negan, all limbs as he slouched in his chair. He furrowed his brow and walked over, dropping in the remaining seat. "How many days off have you taken?" he asked.

Negan shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I have tenure." He tipped his head to the side. "Who's watching Judy?"

"Beth."

Gregory shuffled over to his desk, clearing his throat as he sat. "Have you been keeping up with the news?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.

"Off and on." He gestured. "I'm assuming you're referring to something specific."

Negan grabbed the arms of the chair, leaning forward. "Yeah, fucking spit it out, Gregory."

Maggie shifted in her chair, crossing her legs. "Brian Blake. He's been on the run for a few days now." She turned her head, looking at Gregory.

"Yes, yes… He's been on the run." Gregory set a hand on his desk, thumb tapping against the edge. "He killed his brother and kidnapped his niece. The police have been searching for him, but they haven't found him."

"They're searching in the wrong area completely," Maggie said. "Got a bad tip, and followed it out of state."

"You guys know where he fucking is, though," Negan said, pointing at Gregory.

"Yes."

"Fucking neato."

"He's still in town. Brian used to run a music store. There's an apartment above it." Maggie shook her head. "This was years ago, so maybe they didn't think anything of it. Or they got that bad tip before searching the place."

"Does he still have his niece?" Rick frowned.

Gregory nodded. "To the best of our knowledge, he still does. She's there with him. She's young, can't exactly leave on her own."

"What's his fucking plan?" Negan asked, sitting up straight in his chair. "Wait it out until he gets fucking caught? Lame-ass plan."

"We need you to take him down, Rick." Gregory watched him. "When you were a cop, I'm sure you've seen men do despicable things. Get rid of Brian, and make sure his niece isn't harmed."

Rick began to nod, and he looked over at Negan. They met eyes for a moment, and Rick turned back to Gregory. "We'll do it."

"Now, Rick, I said—"

"—then why even invite Negan? Just to dangle a job in front of him, and then give it to me?"

" _I_ invited him, Rick," Maggie said. She looked at Gregory, eyes narrowed. "This requires two workers. Rick and Negan work well together." At Gregory's quivering lower lip, Maggie leaned forward. "They're working together."

Gregory waved a hand. "Yes, fine." He looked at Negan, giving a sigh. "You're working with Rick."

"I have fucking ears, Gregory." Negan stood up, jaw clenched as he looked down at him. Under his glare, Gregory seemed to shrink in his chair. Negan grinned, then, and winked at Maggie. "See ya, gorgeous."

Maggie gave him a look. "Behave."

Rick stood and followed Negan out of the room. Before they could leave, Maggie stopped them. "Guys, he might… call himself Philip. That was his brother's name." Rick turned around, studying Maggie. Negan stayed put, head bowed as he held onto the doorknob. She gave a small smile. "Be careful. I'd hate if something happened to either of you." Rick reached over, touching Negan's arm. Negan glanced at Rick and looked over at Maggie. "If something goes wrong," she started, "please, just ca—"

"—don't come back," Gregory interrupted, pointing, waving a finger at them. "They know the rule. Right, Maggie?" He smiled, a forced one, and nudged her.

Maggie looked at the two of them and sighed, shoulders dropping. "Yes, they know the rule."

Negan opened the door and stepped out. Rick followed.

* * *

"I didn't know people actually fucking lived above their shops," Negan whispered, trailing behind Rick. "That makes me sound pretty fucking privileged, right?"

Rick adjusted his grip on his gun, glancing over his shoulder at Negan. "A bit. It's okay. I was thinking the same thing." He moved toward the other end of the store, to the door, and opened the door as quietly as he could. Rick peeked inside, seeing a set of stairs that lead to another doorway. He began to trek up the stairs, Negan a close presence behind him.

He stopped in front of the door and waited for Negan. Rick leaned in. "Find the girl," he murmured. Negan nodded and leaned in, too, his forehead against Rick's. "Find the girl first, and then we deal with him."

"Got it." Negan pressed a quick kiss to Rick's lips, murmured a "love ya", and opened up the door. Rick let out a shaky breath and slipped inside.

It was evident the apartment hadn't been lived in for years, judging by the state of the furniture and the amount of dust. It was quiet, too quiet to have a grown man and a young girl living here. Then again, they were supposed to be hiding, so the silence wasn't unusual. Rick watched as Negan went down the hall, peeking into each room as he passed them. Rick walked to a nearby bedroom, pushing open the cracked door.

Inside was a girl, around the age of six, sitting on the bed. Her hair was knotted, and her face was dirty. In her arms was a teddy bear, which she held to her chest. She stared at Rick, eyes widening. Rick felt his face mirror her expression. He lifted a hand and pressed a finger to his lips. The girl nodded and held the bear tighter.

There was a smack, then a thud. "What have you done with my little girl?!"

Rick jolted and looked back at her. He held out a hand. "Stay here. Don't leave this room." She said nothing, only nodded some more, and scooted to lean against the bedroom wall. Rick shut the door and hurried down the hall. He entered the only room with an open door, the master bedroom, to find Negan on the floor, on his back, with Brian standing over him, gun in his face.

"What have you done?!"

Negan shook his head, lifting a hand to wipe the blood coming from his nose. "I haven't fucking done anything."

"Liar."

Rick brought up his arm, and forgetting all proper etiquette, shot as soon as he had his arm steady. "No!" The bullet struck Brian in the side, and he buckled, pressing a hand to the wound. Negan glanced at Rick, eyes narrowed the slightest, and looked back at Brian, kicking at his leg.

Brian dropped to a knee, gun leaving his hold and skidding across the floor. He looked at Rick, eyes wide and teeth bared. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You Brian?" Rick asked, aiming properly with his gun.

"No." Brian shook his head. "I'm Philip."

"We've fucking heard about you. Philip's your brother. You're Brian." Negan said, getting to his feet.

"Brian's dead." Brian looked between them before lurching forward, smacking the gun out of Rick's hand and turning, throwing himself at Negan with a roar.

"Shit!" Negan fell back to the floor, head hitting with a thud. Brian wrapped his fingers around Negan's throat, knuckles white.

Rick watched as the gun slid away, going underneath a dresser. He shook his head, breathing heavily, as he looked over, seeing Negan struggle with Brian. He clawed at the hands at his throat, but nothing seemed to affect Brian. Rick continued to shake his head, jaw clenched, and he ran behind Brian, quickly sliding his arm around his neck and yanking him as hard as he could. Rick felt himself slip and fall, landing on his back with Brian against his chest.

Like Negan had, Brian clawed at Rick's arm, but Rick wouldn't let up. He wouldn't let up for anything. Rick looked up at the ceiling, heels digging into the floor as he arched his back, increasing the pressure against Brian's throat. He listened as he wheezed and wheezed, and Rick pressed a hand to the side of Brian's face. Rick squeezed his eyes shut as he twisted. He heard a snap.

Slowly, Rick pulled his arm back, his hands away from Brian's head. He kept his eyes closed, catching his breath. Brian was a heavy weight against him. Rick opened his eyes and shoved him off, the body rolling with ease next to him. He carefully sat up, swallowing, and met Negan's stare from across the room.

Negan's eyes were wide and lips slightly parted. His nose wasn't bleeding anymore, but there was a smudge on his upper lip. He watched Rick as he rubbed at his neck, faint finger marks on his skin. Negan nodded, starting to grin. "Holy fucking shit, Rick." He lowered his hand and laughed, a raspy thing. "Marry me."

Rick immediately smiled, and he stood up, walking over to Negan and held out his hand. "Get up." He wiggled his fingers. Negan took his hand, and Rick helped pull him into a standing position. He tipped his head to the side, gingerly touching Negan's throat. "Does that hurt?" he asked. Rick furrowed his brow and wiped the blood smear away. "Got you when your back was turned?"

Negan wet his lips after Rick passed his thumb along them. "Marry me." He nodded, lifting a hand to cup Rick's neck. "I'm being fucking serious, Rick. Marry me."

He watched Negan, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I… We have a job to do." Rick touched Negan's hand, pulling it away. "Now's not the time."

"Now is the perfect time," Negan protested. "We've been cheating death for years. I don't want to fucking be alone. I love you. I love Carl and Judith." He held out a hand, palm up. "Please, Rick. Do me the honor." He gave a small smile. "I fucking want to be Mr. Grimes."

Rick laughed and leaned forward, forehead against Negan's. "I can't believe you're doing this." Rick shook his head, looking down. "There's a body right over there."

"Perfect, right?"

"I love you, too," Rick said, pulling back to properly look at Negan. He smiled, nodding. "Okay, fine." Rick set his hand in Negan's, squeezing his fingers. "I'll marry you."

Negan brought Rick's hand up, kissing his knuckles. "Fuck yeah." He dropped his hand and sighed, the slightest hint of a smile still on his lips. "Like you fucking said, though. We have a job to do." Negan turned away from him and dipped down, scooping up his gun. He stuck it behind him. "Have you found the girl? I didn't see her."

Rick moved toward the dresser, stepping over Brian. He crouched and stuck his hand underneath, stretching until he felt his gun. Rick pulled it out and stuck it in his waistband. "Yeah, follow me." Rick moved out of the room, headed down the hall, and carefully opened up the bedroom door. He glanced at Negan, giving him a pointed look, before stepping inside.

The girl was still sitting on the bed, face pressed to the teddy bear. At the door opening, she lifted her head and looked at Rick, at Negan. "Hi."

"Hi," Rick said back, walking over to her. "Can I sit next to you?" She nodded, and Rick sat on the edge of the bed.

"What's your name, kid?" Negan asked, moving to crouch in front of her.

"Penny," she said. She looked at Rick. "Is Uncle Brian dead?"

Rick opened his mouth, then closed it. Negan reached out, pulling in Penny for a hug. "You're safe now, hun," he murmured. Negan held her there for a moment, rubbing her back, before pulling away and standing up. "Stay here with my friend. He'll keep you company, while I make a phone call." Negan gestured at Rick and dug his phone out of his pocket. Rick eyed Negan as he walked out of the room.

"What's your name?" Penny asked.

Rick wet his lips and looked over at her. "Andy." Penny glanced at the doorway, where Negan went. "His name's Jeffrey. You don't have to worry. Nightmare's over."

Penny squeezed her bear. "Uncle Brian was scary."

Rick pulled Penny closer, wrapping her in a hug. "I know."

* * *

" _You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?_ " Negan read.

Rick laughed. "I certainly didn't expect this."

Negan tossed the note back in the nightstand. "So, if I become a Grimes, does that relinquish my fucking hold on the Saviors? Does Gregory fucking get everything? Or, better yet, do you, as my amazing husband, become the fucking head honcho along with me?"

"Whatever you want to happen. But… I think nothing will change. The Hilltop will still be the base of operations."

"Unless we want to change things." Negan looked over at Rick, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm fine with how things are." Rick turned his head, studying Negan. "Well, besides the obvious change." He held out his hand. Negan took his and joined him on the bed.

* * *

Rick narrowed his eyes at Negan. He swayed in his spot, biting back a smile. Negan glared at him. "Don't fucking do it."

"I have to."

"No, you fucking don't."

Rick reached over, not taking his eyes off Negan. He touched something warm and gooey. Rick curled his fingers.

Negan shook his head. "Rick fucking Grimes."

Rick smeared a dollop of icing across Negan's face. Around them, there were cheers and laughter. Negan grinned and turned, grabbing a handful of cake. He pushed it into Rick's face, fingers dragging down. Rick laughed and reached up, touching Negan's neck with icing-coated fingers.

Though Negan tried to move away, Rick caught him. They kissed.


End file.
